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AEUNIVEi 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  (Congress  in  the  year  1880,  by 

L.  W.  Yaggy  and  T.  L.  Haines, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  (] 


Egypt,  Greece  and  Italy  were  the  fountain  heads  of  our  civilization  and 
the  source  of  our  knowledge  ;  to  them  we  can  trace,  link  by  link,  the  origin 
of  all  that  is  ornamental,  graceful  and  beautiful.  It  is  therefore  a  matter 
of  greatest  interest  to  get  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  original  state,  and 
former  perfection,  the  grandeur,  magnificence  and  high  civilization  of  these 
countries,  as  well  as  of  the  homes,  the  private  and  domestic  life,  the  schools, 
churches,  rites,  ceremonies,  &c. 

The  many  recent  excavations  in  Troy,  Nineveh,  Babylon  and  the  un- 
covering of  the  City  of  Pompeii,  with  its  innumerable  treasures,  the  unfold- 
ing of  the  long-hoarded  secrets,  have  revealed  information  for  volumes  of 
matter.  But  works  that  treat  on  the  various  subjects  of  antiquity  are,  for  the 
most  part,  not  only  costly  and  hard  to  procure,  but  also  far  too  voluminous. 
The  object  of  this  work  is  to  condense  into  the  smallest  possible  compass 
the  essence  uf  information  which  usually  runs  through  many  volumes,  and 
place  it  into  a  practical  form  for  the  common  reader.  We  hope,  however, 
that  this  work  will  give  the  reader  a  greater  longing  to  extend  his  inquiries 
into  these  most  interesting  subjects,  so  rich  in  everything  that  can  refine 
the  taste,  enlarge  the  understanding  and  improve  the  heart.  It  has  been 
our  object,  so  far  as  possible,  to  avoid  every  expression  of  opinion,  whether 
our  own  or  that  of  any  school  of  thinkers,  and  to  supply  first,  facts,  and 
secondly,  careful  references  by  which  the  citations  of  those  facts,  may  be 
verified,  and  the  inferences  from  them  traced  by  the  reader  himself,  to  their 
legitimate  result. 

Before  we  close,  we  would  tender  our  greatest  obligations  to  the  Eng- 
lish and  German  authors,  from  whom  we  have  drawn  abundantly  in  prepar- 
ing this  work  ;  also  to  the  Directors  of  the  British  Museum  of  London,  and 
the  Society  of  Antiquarians  of  Berlin,  and  especially  to  the  authorities  of 
the  excavated  City  of  Pompeii  and  its  treasures  in  the  Museum  of  Naples, 
where  we  were  furnished  with  an  intelligent  guide  and  permitted  to  spend 
days  in  our  researches.  To  each  and  all  of  these,  who  have  so  kindly  pro- 
moted our  labor,  our  heartfelt  thanks  are  cordially  returned. 

Many  of  the  engravings  are  from  drawings  made  on  the  spot,  but  a 
greater  number  are  from  photographs,  and  executed  with  the  greatest  fidel- 
ity by  German  and  French  artists 


€e^l  Mmic 


■^m^^' 


PAGE 

The  Palace  of  the  CcEsars,           ^,  «           / 

Flottse  of  the  Tragic  Poet—Sallust,  112 

Egyptian  Feast,          -         -         -  -    2^0 

Approach  to  Kamac,      -         -         -  j<?^ 

Temple  of  Karnac,     -         -         -  -    ^/(O 

The  Philae  Islands,          -         -         -  656 

School  of  the   Vestal  Virgi^ts,    -  -    8^2 


TABJLE   OF   CONTENTS. 


pOMPEII. 


The  Glory  of  the  City— Destructiou — Exca,va,\ion— Entering  Pompeii  {Page  21-25) — The 
Streets  of  the  City — The  Theatres  of  Pompeii — Villa  of  Julia  Felix— Pavements  and 
Sidevfulks— Arrangement  of  Private  Houses  (Page  26-53) — Elegance  of  Domestic 
Architecture — Ground  Plan  of  Roman  House — Exterior  Apartments — Interior 
Apartments — Dining  Halls — The  Triclinium— Materials  and  Construction — The 
Salve  Lucru— Paintings  and  Decorations — The  Drunken  Hercules — Wall  Decoration 
— The  Peristyle — The  House  of  Siricus— Political  Inscriptions— Electioneering 
Advertisements— The  Graffiti— Street  of  the  Lupanar — Eighty  Loaves  of  Bread  Found 
— The  House  of  the  Balcony — Human  Bodies  Preserved — Discovered  Bodies — House 
of  Diomedes  (Page  .54-74)— Location  of  the  Villa— Ground  Plan  of  tiie  Villa — Detail 
of  Ground  Plan — The  Caldarium— Galleries  and  Halls — Porticoes  and  Terraces — 
Tomb  and  Family  Sepulchre— The  Villa  Destroyed — Conclusive  Evidence — Jewels 
and  Ornaments — Pliuy's  Account  of  a  Roman  Garden — Stores  and  Eating  Houses 
(Page  75-81) — Restaurant— Pompeian  Bill  of  Fare — Circe,  Daughter  of  the  Sun — 
Houses  of  Pansa  and  Sallust  (Page  <92-i05)— Curious  R'ligious  Painting- General 
View  of  House — Worship  of  the  Lares — Domeslii-ated  bcipents — Discoveries  Con- 
firm Ancient  Authors — Ornamentation  and  Draperies — Remarkable  Mansions — 
House  of  the  Vestals — Surgical  and  other  Instruments — Shop  of  an  Apothecary — 
House  of  Holconius  {Page  103-112) — Decorations  of  the  Bed-Chambers — Perseus  and 
Andromeda— Epigraphs  and  Inscriptions — Ariadne  Discovered  by  Bacchus — 
General  Survey  of  the  City  {Page  113-118) — Wine  Merchant's  Sign — Sculptor's 
Laboratory — House  of  Emperor  Joseph  II 17-119 


yVlVIUgEMENTg. 


The  Amphitlieatre — Coliseum— 8-1,000  Seats — The  Bloody  Entertainments — Examining 
the  Wounded — The^iires— Roman  Baths  {Page  i47-/5())— Description  of  the  Baths — 
Cold  Baths — Warm  Chambers — The  Vapor  Baths — Hot- Air  'B?ii\\?,— Social  Games 
and  Sports  (Page  157-762)— Domestic  Games— Jugglers— Game  of  Cities — Gym- 
nastic Arts — Social  Entertainments  {Page  163-180) — Characteristics  of  the  Dance 

5 


Vi  TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 

— Grace  and  Dress  of  the  Dancers — Position  at  the  Table — Vases  and  Ornaments — 
Food  and  Vegetables — ^lode  of  Eating — Reminders  of  Moria.Uty—Egpptian  Musia 
and  Entertainments  {Page  181-188) — Musical  Instruments— Jewish  ]\Iusic — Beer, 
Palm  Wine,  E[c—  Games  and  Sj)orts  of  the  Egyptians  {Page  189-202)— G-dmes  with 
Dice— Games  of    Ball— Wrestling— Intellectual    Capabilities-Hunting.  ..120-20? 


POME^TIC     .falFE. 


Occupation  of  Women — Battling — Wedding  Ceremonies- Children's  Toys — Writing 
Materials — Fanulies,  Schools  and  Marriages — Duties  of  Children — Dress,  Toilei 
and  Jewelry  {Page  219-232)— The  Chiton— Dress  Materials— Styles  of  Wearing  Hair 
— Head-Dress  of  Women — Hair-Pins — Sunshades — Crimes  and  Punishments;  Con- 
tracts, Deeds,  Etc.  {Page  255-252)— Punishments — Laws  Respecting  Debt — Contracts 
— Superstition — Cure  of  Diseases— //ous^s,  Villas,  Farmyards,  Orchards,  Gardens, 
Etc.  {Page  253-270) — Character  of  the  People — Construction  of  Houses — Plans  ol 
Villas— Irrigation — Gardens — Egyptian  Wealth  {Page  271-280) — Gold  and  Silver — 
Worth  of  Gold— Treasures— Total  Value  of  Gold 203-280 


pOME^TIC    ^TEN^IL^. 


Writing  Materials — Literature— Curious  Lamps — The  Candelabrum — Candelabra — Oil- 
Lamps — The  Steelyard — Drinking  Vessels — Colored  Glass— Glass — Glass  Vessels — 
Articles  of  Jewelrj'— Toilet-Boxes,  Etc.— Furniture  {Page  5(^9-522)— Chairs  and 
Stools— Bed-Room  Furniture — Tables,  Etc. — Pottery — Drawings  on  Vases — Vases 
{Page  323-342) — Greek  Vases — Inscriptions  on  Vases — Historical  Subjects  on  Vases 
— Uses  of  Vases— Vases  Found  in  Tombs — Silver  Vessels — Decorated  Vases.. 281-342 


J^JVIPLOYJVIENT. 


C5olored  Glass  Vessels — Imiuition  Jewels — Potters — Carpenter's  Tools — Professions — 
Husbandry — Rise  of  the  Nde — Agricultural  Implements — Agriculture — Baking, 
Dyeing  and  Painting  {Page  363-384)— Ylonv  IVIills — Bread-Baking — Dyeing — Scour- 
ing and  Dyeing — Coloring  Substances — Mineral  Used  for  Dyeing — Cost  of  Dyeing 
— Cloth  Manufacture — Persian  Costumes 343-384 


^F{OY. 


Ruins  at  Hissarlik— Settlement  of  Troy— First  Settlers— Scsean  Gate— Call  of  Menelaus — 

Houses  at  Troy^Objects  Found  in  Houses — Silver  Vases — Taking  out  the  Treasure 

— Shield  of  the  Treasure — Ccmtents  of  the  Treasure — Ear-Rings  and  Chains — Gold 

Buttons,  Studs,  Etc. — Silver  Goblet  and  Vases — Weapons  of  Troy — Terra  Cotta 

Mugs — Condition  of  the  Roads — Lack  of  Inscriptions 385-422 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS.  vti 

jMlJMEVEH    y\JND   ]Py\BYLO]N. 

Explorations  of  Niebuhr  aad  Rich — Excavations  at  Kouyunjilc  Palace— Sennacherib's 
Conquests — Highly-Finished  Sculptures — North  Palace,  Kouyunjik — Temple  of 
Solomon— The  Oracle — Description  of  the  Palace — Modern  Houses  of  Persia — 
Chambers  in  the  Palace — The  Walls — Grandeur  of  Babylon — Building  Materials- 
History  of  Babylou — Karnac  and  Baalbec  {Page  461-473) — Stupendous  Remains- 
Temple  of  Luxor — Chambers  of  the  Great  Pyramid — The  Great  Temple — The 
Pantheon  at  Rome — Egyptian  Obelisks — Obelisks 423-48<'- 

l^f:LIQION     01^    ^YTHOLOQV. 

Mythology— Mythological  Characters — The  Pythian  Apollo — Phoebus  Apollo — Niobe 
and  Leto— Daphne — Kyrene — Hermes — The  Sorrow  of  Demeter — The  Sleep  of 
Endymion — Phaethon — Briareos — Dionysos —  Peutheus — Asklepios — Ixion — Tan  ta- 
les— The  Toils  of  Herakles — Admetos — Epimetheus  and  Pandora — lo  and  Prorfie- 
theus— Deukalion  —Poseidon  and  Athene — Medusa — Danae — Perseus— Andromeda 
— Akrisios— Kephalos  and  Prokris — Skylla — Phrixos  and  Helle— Medeia — Theseus 
— Ariadue — Arethusa — Tyro— Narkissos — Orpluus  and  Eurydike — Kadmos  and 
Europa — Bellerophon — Althaia  and  the  Burning  Brand 485-643 


J^mz  yVRT^. 


Egyptian  Soul pture  —  Etruscan  Painting  —  Renowned  Painters — Parrhasius — Colors 
Used— Sculpture  Painting — Fresco  P-d'mting— Sculpturing  (Page  667-694)— Sculp- 
ture in  Greece  and  Egypt— Sculptures  of  Ancient  Kings — Animal  Sculpture- 
Modeling  of  the  Human  Figure — "  The  Sculptor  of  the  Gods" — Grandeur  of  Style 
— Statues — Description  of  Statues — Work  of  Lysippus— The  Macedonian  Age — 
Roman  Art— Copies  of  Ancient  Gnds Mosaic  {Page  695-702)— KobsAc  Subjects- 
Battle  Represented  in  Mosaics  —  Grandeur  of  Style 643-702 


JuITERATURE. 


Homer —  Paris  —  Achilles — The  Vengeance  of  Odysseus — Sophocles —  Herodotus — The 
Crocodile  —  Artabanus  Dissuades  Xerxes  —  Socrates  —  Socrates  and  Aristodemus  — 
Aristophanes  —  Plato  —  The  Perfect  Beauty  —  Last  Hours  of  Socrates  —  Demos- 
thenes—Philip  and  the  Athenians  —  Measures  to  Resist  Philip  —  Former  Athenians 
Described  —  Oration  on  the  Crown — Invective  against  Catiline — Expulsion  of  Cati- 
line from  Rome— The  Tyrant  Praetor  Denounced— Immortality  of  the  Soul— Julius 
Caesar — The  Germans — Battle  of  Pharsalia  — Virgil  —  Employment  of  the  Bee — 
Punishments  in  Hell  — Horace  —  To  Licinius  —  Happiness  Founded  on  Wisdom  — 
The  Equality  of  Man  — Plutarch  — Proscription  of  Sylla— Demosthenes  and  Cicero 
Compared...   1 703-832 


Viii  TABLE    OF    CONTENTS 

^OMBg    AND    j^ATACOJVlB^. 

Extent  of  the  Tombs— An  Acre  and  a  quarter  in  a  Tomb— Sculpturings— Painting- 
Burying  According  to  Rank— Mummies— Mummy  Cases  and  Sarcophagi— Koman 
Tombs— Inscriptions-rAe  Catacombs  (Page  S75-910)— Inscriptions— Catacombs- 
Christian  Inscriptions— Early  Inscriptions- Catacombs,  nearly  900  miles  long- 
Utensils  from  the  Catacombs— Paintings— S.  Calixtus— Lord's  Supper 833-910 


]"ruth  of  thi:  ^^ible 


The  Assyrian  ana  Babylonian  Discoveries  — 1100  Christian  Inscriptions — The  use  of 
the  Bible  for  Excavators — Accordance  with  Ancient  Writings — Frieze  from  the 
Arch  of  Titus  —  No  Book  produced  by  Chance  —  God  the  Author — Its  Great  Antiq- 
uity— The  Pentateuch  —  Preservation  of  the  Scripture  —  Its  Important  Discoveries 
Its  Peculiar  Style  —  Its  Harmony  —  Its  Impartiality — Its  Prophecies— Its  Impor- 
tant Doctrines  —  Its  Holy  Tendency— Its  Aims— Its  Effects — Its  General  Reception 
—  Persecuted  but  not  Persecuting 911  -944 


Page. 

Destruction  of  Pompeii 17 

YiEW  OF  Pompeii.     {From,  a  PJwtograph) 23 

Plan  of  a  Roman  House 28 

Yestibule  of  a  Pompeian  House 30 

Triclinium  or  Dining-room 33 

Hercules  Drunk.     {From  Pompeii) 37 

Discovered  Body  at  Pompeii \  .  51 

Ground  Plan  of  the  Suburban  Yilla  of  Diomedes 57 

Wall  Painting  at  Pompeii 69 

Household  Utensils 72 

Restaurant.     {From  Wall  Painting) 77 

Bed  and  Table  at  Pompeii.      {From  Wall  Painting) .  78 

Plan  of  a  Triclinium 79 

Head  of  Circe 81 

Kitchen  Furniture  at  Pompeii 84 

Brooches  of  Gold  found  at  Pompeii 98 

Scales  found  at  Pompeii 100 

Wall  Painting  found  at  Pompeii 105 

Gold  Breastpins  found  at  Pompeii 114 

A  Laboratory,  as  found  in  Pompeii 117 

First  Walls  Discovered  in  Pompeii 118 

Coliseum  of  Rome 128 


X  LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Page. 

YiTSw  OF  THE  Amphitheatre  at  Pompeii 121 

Examining  the  Wounded 133 

Asking  Pardon •  135 

Not  Granted 135 

Combats  with  Beasts 137 

View  of  the  Tepidarium 151 

Ancient  Bath  Room.     (As  Discovered) 155 

Egyptian  Vases 173 

Social  Enjoyment  of  AVomen.    {From  aa  Ancient  Painting) 205 

Gold  Pins 220 

Shawl  or  Toga  Pin 220 

Pearl  Set  Pins 221 

Stone  Set  Brooches , 224 

Hair  Dress.    {From  Pompeii) 227 

Toilet  Articles  found  at  Pompeii 231 

Wreath  of  Oak.    {Life  Saving) 247 

Tabula,  Calamus,  and  Papyrus 283 

Tabula,  Stylus,  and  Papyrus 283 

Tabula  and  Ink  Stand 284 

Gold  Lamp.     {Found  at  Pompeii) 287 

Candelabrum,  or  Lamp  Stand 28^ 

Candelabra,  or  Lamp  Stands 290 

Standing  Lamp 293 

Ancient  Lamps 293 

Scales  and  Weights 295 

Vessels,     {From  Pompeii) 296 

Drinking  Vessel 297 

Glass  Vessels      {From  Pompeii) 302 

Cups  and  Metai.s 304 

Gold  Jewelry.    {From  Pompeii) 305 

Heavy  Gold  Pins 306 

Brooches  Inset  with  Stone 307 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS.  Xi 

Page. 

Safety  Toga  Pins 308 

Plundering  Coeinth 317 

Greek  Vase 321 

Etruscan  Vase 324 

Roman  Vases 325 

Vase  Representing  a  Marriage.    (Found  at  Pompeii) 328 

Vase  Representing  Trojan  War.     {Found  at  Pompeii) 333 

Vase.      {Found  at  Pompeii) 334 

Vase  Representing  Greek  Sacrifice 336 

Vase  2,000  Years  Old 337 

Silver  Platter 339 

Silver  Cup.     {Found  at  Hildesheim) 340 

Vase  of  the  First  Century 341 

Dish  of  the  First  Century 341 

Ancient  Glass  Vessels , 346 

Glass  Brooch , 347 

Imitation  of  Real  Stone 34i 

Ancient  Egyptian  Pottery 350 

Mill  and  Bakery  at  Pompeii 365 

Bread  Discovered  in  Pompeii 371 

Metals  and  Beads 389 

Terra-cotta  Lamps 394 

Bronze  Lamps 394 

Golden  Cups  of  Priam.    (Found  at  Troy) 396 

Wonderful  Vases  of  Terra-cotta  from  Palace  of  Priam 399 

From  Palace  of  Priam 400 

Lids  and  Metals  of  Priam ...   401 

Treasures  of  Priam.    {Found  at  Troy) 404 

Part  of  Machine  of  Priam 406 

Jewelry  of  Goi-d  and  Stones 406 

Vessel  Found  in  the  Palace  of  Priam 407 

Shield  of  the  Palace  of  Priam 408 


Xii  LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Page. 

Gold  Necklace  of  Troy •  •  •   409 

Gold  Tassels  of  Troy 409 

Lamps  found  at  Troy 409 

Studs  and  Bracelets  of  Priam 411 

Gold  Pins  with  Set  Gems 411 

Gold  Ear-rings  of  Troy 412 

Spears,  Lances,  Ax  and  Chain 415 

Shears,  Knives  and  Spkars 415 

Lances  Found  at  Palace  ok  Priam,  Troy 416 

Coins  or  Metals 418 

Elegant  Brooch  of  Troy • 421 

Lamp  found  at  Troy 422 

Palace  of  Sennacherib 427 

Discovered  in  the  Palace 435 

View  of  a  Hall 445 

Columns  of  K  arnac -• 463 

The  Great  Pyramids  and  Sphinx 469 

Ruins  of  Baalbec 473 

View  of  the  Pantheon  at  Rome 475 

Pantheon  at  Rome 477 

Half  Section  of  the  Pantheon 478 

Obelisk  of  IIeliopolis 481 

Jupiter  (or  Zeus) 491 

Apollo.      (From  an  Ancient  Sculpture) 49S 

Pluto  and  His  Wife 503 

Ceres  (or  Demeter.    From  Pompeii  Wall  Painting) 512 

Juno  (p^  Uere) 516 

Diana  (or  Artemis) 520 

Vulcan  (or  Hepliaistos) 526 

Minerva  (or  Pallas  At/iene.    Found  at  Pompeii) 530 

Ancient  Sculpturing  on  Tantalos 537 

Urania.       (Muse  of  Astronomy) 533 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS.  xiii 

Page. 

Jupiter  {or  Zeus  with  his  Thunderbolt) 5^^ 

Thalia,  the  Muse q^q 

Laocoon,  the  False  Priest 555 

Grecian  Altar  {3000  years  old) 5^3 

Euterpe.      {Muse  of  Pleasure) »  5^7 

Thalia.     {Muse  of  Comedy) 534 

NuMA  PoMPiLius  Visiting  the  Kymph  Egeria 591 

Polyhymnia.    {Muse  of  Rhetoric) OOg 

Sphinx  of  Egypt 507 

Calliope.    {Muse  of  Heroic  Verse) ,....: 614 

The  Origin  of  Man 017 

Erate.      {Muse  of  the  Lute) (523 

Terpsichore.    {Muse  of  Dancing) 625 

Ancient  Sacrifice.     {From  Wall  Painting  of  Pompeii) 631 

Melpomene.     {Muse  of  Tragedy) 639 

Clio.     {Muse  of  History) 642 

Ancient  Art  and  Literature 645 

Painting  {2600  years  old) 655 

Dying  Gladiator 688 

Mosaic  Floor 696 

Mosaic    Doves 697 

Apollo  Charming   Nature 701 

Ancient  Authors 709 

Library  of    Herculaneum 721 

Trojan  Heroes 735 

Ancient  Metal  Engraving 745 

Socrates  Drinking  the   Poison 762 

From  Ancient  Sculpturing 775 

King  Philip  {of  Macedon) 784 

Augustus  C^sar.     {Found  at  Pompeii) 795 

Julius    C^SAR.      {From  an  Ancient  Sculpturing) ,...,.<. 805 

Virgil  and   Horace 813 


Xiv  LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Page. 

Euclid «24 

Alexander  Severus 831 

Egypi'ian  Tomb •  •  •  •  835 

Sarcophagus,  or  Coffin.     {With  Noah's  Ark  cut  in  relief  on  the  outside) .  .  841 

Coffin  of  Alabaster.      {Features  of  the  Deceased  Sculptured) 843 

Discovered  Tomb  with  its  Treasures.     {At  Pompeii) 847 

Articles  Found   in  a  Tomb 852 

Hieroglyphics 857,  858,  859 

Egyptian   Pillar 862 

Egyptian   Column 867 

Sections  of  the  Catacombs  with  Chambers 874 

Plan  of  the  Catacombs  at  Rome 875 

Stone   Coffin 878 

Stone  Coffin  with   Open  Side 879 

Inside  View  of  the  Catacombs 881 

Laisips  Found  in  the  Catacombs 884 

Tomb  Inscription 896 

Painted  Ceiling 906 

Chamber  of  a  Catacomb ,  .  909 

Frieze  from  the  Arch  of  Titus 916 

Pentateuch,  Written  3200  Years  Ago 921 

Shishak  and  His  Captives  on  Sculptured  Wall  at  Karnac 935 

Portrait  of  Reiioboam 936 


^iv^ 


^r 


^v'4: 


yVoDREgg  TO  THE  ^jVlujVlMY. 


"And  thou  hast  walked  about,  (how  stranf^o  a  story!) 
In  Thebes'  streets  three  thousand  j'ears  ago, 
When  the  Memnonium  was  in  all  its  glory, 
And  time  had  not  begun  to  overthrow 
Those  temples,  palaces  and  piles  stupendous, 
Of  which  the  very  ruins  are  tremendous. 

"Perhaps  that  very  hand  now  pinioned  flat, 
Has  hob-a-nobbed  with  Pharaoh,  glass  to  glass. 
Or  dropped  a  half-penny  in  Homer's  hat; 
Or  doffed  thine  own  to  let  Queen  Dido  passj 
Or  held,  by  Solomon's  own  invitation, 
A  torch  at  the  great  Temple's  dedication. 

"Thou  couldst  dovelop — if  that  withered  tonr;^ 
Could  tell  us  what  those  sightless  orbs  have  seea^ 
How  the  world  looked  when  it  was  fresh  and  young 
And  the  great  deluge  still  had  loft  it  green; 
Or  was  it  then  so  old  that  history's  pages 
Contained  no  record  of  its  early  ages? 

"Since  first  thy  form  was  in  this  box  extended 

We  have,  above  ground,  seen  some  strange  mutations; 

The  Roman  Empire  has  begun  and  onded, 

New  worlds  have  risen — we  have  lost  old  nation::; 

And  counfiess  kings  have  into  dust  been  humbled. 

While  not  a  fragment  of  thy  flesh  has  crumbled. 

15 


i6 


ADDRESS    TO    THE    MUMMY. 


"If  the  tomb's  secrets  may  not  be  confessed, 

The  nature  of  thy  private  life  unfold: 

A  heart  has  throbbed  beneath  that  leathern  breast, 

And  tears  adown  that  dusty  cheek  have  rolled; 

Have  children  climbed  those  knees  and  kissed  that  face? 

What  was  thy  name  and  station,  age  and  race?  " 


f^ji^WZR. 


"Child  of  the  later  days!  thy  words  have  broken 

A  spell  that  long  has  bound  these  lungs  of  clay, 

For  since  this  smoke-dried  tongue  of  mine  hath  spoken. 

Three  thousand  tedious  years  have  rolled  away. 

Unswathed  at  length,  I  'stand  at  ease'  before  ye. 

List,  then,  O  list,  while  I  unfold  my  story." 
********* 


■M'- 


y^f^mi 


Pompeii  was  in  its  full  glory  at  the  commencement  of  the 
Christian  era.  It  was  a  city  of  wealth  and  refinement,  with 
about  35,000  inhabitants,  and  beautifully  located  at  the  foot  of 
Mount  Vesuvius;    it  possessed  all  local  advantages  that  the  most 

refined  taste  could  de- 
sire. Upon  the  verge 
of  the  sea,  at  the  en- 
trance of  a  fertile- 
plain,  on  the  bank  of 
a  navigable  river,  it 
united  the  convenien- 
ces of  a  commercial 
town  with  the  secu"i- 
ty  of  a  military  sta- 
tion, and  the  romantic 
beauty  of  a  spot  cele- 
brated in  all  ages  for 
its  pre-eminent  loveli- 
ness. Its  environs, 
even  to  the  heights  of 
Vesuvius,  were  cover- 
ed with  villas,  and  the 
coast,  all  the  way  to 
Naples,  was  so  orna- 
mented with  gardens 
and  villages,  that  the  shores  of  the  whole  gulf  appeared  as  one 
city. 


OBSTRUCTION   OF   POMPEII. 


l8  THE    GLORY    OF    THE    CITY. 

What  an  enchanting  picture  must  have  presented  itseh'  to 
one  approaching  Pompeii  by  sea  !  He  beheld  the  bright,  cheer 
ful  Grecian  temples  spreading  out  on  the  slopes  belore  him  ;  the 
pillared  Forum ;  the  rounded  marble  Theatres.  He  saw  the 
grand  Palaces  descending  to  the  very  edge  of  the  blue  waves  by 
noble  flights  of  steps,  surrounded  with  green  pines,  laurels  and 
cypresses,  from  amidst  whose  dark  foliage  marble  statues  of  gods 
gleamed  whitely. 

The  skillful  architect,  the  sculptors,  the  painters,  and  the 
casters  of  bronze  were  all  employed  to  make  Pompeii  an  asylum 
of  arts;  all  trades  and  callings  endeavored  to  grace  and  beautify 
the  city.  The  prodigious  concourse  of  strangers  who  came  here 
in  search  of  health  and  recreation  added  new  charms  and  life  to 
the  scene. 

But  behind  all  this,  and  encased  as  it  were  in  a  frame,  the 
landscape  rose  in  a  gentle  slope  to  the  summit  of  the  thundering 
mountain.  But  indications  were  not  wanting  of  the  peril  with 
which  the  city  was  threatened.  The  whole  district  is  volcanic  ; 
and  a  few  years  before  the  final  catastrophe,  an  earthquake  had 
shaken  Pompeii  to  its  foundations;  some  of  the  buildings  were 
much  injured.  On  August  24,  A.D.  79,  the  inhabitants  were 
busily  engaged  in  repairing  the  damage  thus  wrought,  when  sud- 
denly and  without  any  previous  warning  a  vast  column  of  black 
smoke  burst  froni  the  overhanging  mountain.  Rising  to  a  pro- 
digious height  in  the  cloudless  summer  sky,  it  then  gradually 
spread  out  like  the  head  of  some  mighty  Italian  pine,  hiding  the 
sun,  and  overshadowing  the  earth  for  miles  in  distance. 

The  darkness  grew  into  profound  night,  only  broken  by  the 
blue  and  sulphurous  flashes  which  darted  from  the  pitchy  cloud. 
vSoon  the  thick  rain  of  thin,  light  ashes,  almost  imperceptible  to 
the  touch,  fell  upon  the  land.  Then  quickly  succeeded  showers 
of  small  pumice  stones  and  heavier  ashes,  and  emitting  stifling, 
eruptic  fumes.     After  a  time  the  sounds  of  approaching  torrents 


DESTRUCTION. 


19 


were  heard,  and  soon  streaming  rivers  of  dense  black  mud  poured 
slowly  but  irresistibly  down  the  mountain  sides,  and  circled 
through  the  streets,  insidiously  creeping  into  such  recesses  as 
even  the  subtle  ashes  had  failed  to  penetrate.  There  was  now  no 
place  of  shelter  left.  No  man  could  defend  himself  against  this 
double  enemy.  It  was  too  late  for  flight  for  such  as  had  remained 
behind.  Those  who  had  taken  refuge  in  the  innermost  parts  of 
the  houses,  or  in  the  subterranean  passages,  were  closed  up  for- 
ever. Those  who  sought  t  )  flee  through  the  streets  were  clogged 
by  the  small,  loose  pumi.c  stones,  which  lay  many  feet  deep,  or 
were  entangled  and  overwhelmed  in  the  mud-streams,  or  were 
struck  down  by  the  rocks  which  fell  from  the  heavens.  If  they 
escaped  these  dangers,  blinded  by  the  drifting  ashes  and  groping 
in  the  dark,  not  knowing  which  way  to  go,  they  were  overcome 
by  the  sulphurous  vapors,  and  sinking  on  the  highway  were  soon 
buried  beneath  the  volcanic  matter.  Even  many  who  had  gained 
the  open  country,  at  the  beginning  of  the  eruption,  were  over- 
taken by  the  darkness  and  falling  cinders,  and  perished  miserably 
in  the  field  or  on  the  sea-shore,  where  they  had  vainly  sought  the 
means  of  flight. 

In  three  days  the  doomed  city  had  disappeared.  It  lay 
buried  beneath  a  vast  mass  of  ashes,  pumice  stone  and  hardened 
mud,  from  twenty  to  seventy  feet  deep.  Those  of  its  terror- 
stricken  inhabitants  who  escaped  destruction,  abandoned  forever 
its  desolate  site.  Years,  generations,  centuries  went  by,  and  the 
existence  of  Pompeii — yea,  even  its  very  name — had  ceased  to  be 
remeinbered.  The  rich  volcanic  soil  became  covered  with  a  pro- 
lusion of  vegetation.  Vineyards  flourished  and  houses  were  built 
on  the  site  of  the  buried  city. 

Nearly  eighteen  hundred  years  had  elapsed  since  the  thun- 
derer  Vesuvius  had  thrown  the  black  mantle  of  ashes  over  the 
fair  city  before  the  resuscitation  arrived.  Some  antique  bronzes 
and  utensils,  discovered  by  a  peasant,  excited  universal  attention. 


20  EXCAVATION. 

Excavations  were  begun,  and  Pompeii,  shaking  off  as  it  were  her 
musty  grave  clothes,  stared  from  the  classic  and  poetical  age  of 
the  tirst  into  the  prosaic  modern  world  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
The  world  was  startled,  and  looked  with  wondering  interest  to 
see  this  ancient  stranger  arising  from  her  tomb  —  to  behold  the 
awakening  of  the  remote  past  from  the  womb  of  the  earth  which 
had  so  long  hoarded  it. 

The  excavation  has  been  assiduously  prosecuted,  until  to-day 
three  hundred  and  sixty  houses,  temples,  theatres,  schools, 
stores,  factories,  etc.,  have  been  thrown  open  before  us  with  their 
treasured  contents.  It  is  often,  but  erroneously,  supposed  that 
Pompeii,  like  Herculaneum,  was  overwhelmed  by  a  flood  of  lava. 
Had  this  been  the  case,  the  work  of  excavation  would  have  been 
immenscl}'  more  difficult,  and  the  result  would  have  been  far  less 
important.  The  marbles  must  have  been  calcined,  the  bronzes 
melted,  the  frescoes  effaced,  and  smaller  articles  destroyed  by 
the  fiery  flood.  The  ruin  was  effected  by  showers  of  dust  and 
scoriae,  and  by  torrents  of  liquid  mud,  which  formed  a  mould, 
encasing  the  objects,  thus  preserving  them  from  injury  or  decay. 
We  thus  gain  a  perfect  picture  of  what  a  Roman  city  was  eight- 
een hundred  years  ago,  as  everything  is  laid  bare  to  us  in  almost 
a  perfect  state. 

What  wealth  of  splendid  vessels  and  utensils  was  contained 
in  the  chests  and  closets!  Gold  and  gilded  ivory,  pearls  and 
precious  stones  were  used  to  decorate  tables,  chairs  and  vessels 
for  eating  and  drinking.  Elegant  lamps  hung  from  the  ceiling, 
and  candelabra  and  little  lamps  of  most  exquisite  shapes  illumin- 
ated the  apartments  at  night.  To-day,  looking  at  the  walls,  the 
e}es  may  feast  on  beautiful  fresco  paintings,  with  colors  so  vivid 
and  fresh  as  if  painted  but  yesterday;  while  gleaming  everywhere 
on  ceiling,  wall  and  floor,  are  marbles  of  rarest  hue,  sculptured 
into  every  conceivable  form  of  grace  and  beauty,  and  inlaid  in 
most  artistic  designs. 


ENTERING    POMPEII.  21 


J^NTERINQ    ^pOMPEII. 


We  will  now  proceed  to  describe  the  general  aspect  of  the 
city,  and  for  this  purpose  it  will  be  convenient  to  suppose  that 
we  have  entered  it  by  the  gate  of  Herculaneum,  though  in  other 
respects  the  Porta  della  Marina  is  the  more  usual,  and,  perhaps, 
the  best  entrance. 

On  entering,  the  visitor  finds  himself  in  a  street,  running  a 
little  east  of  south,  which  leads  to  the  Forum.  To  the  right, 
stands  a  house  formerly  owned  by  a  musician  ;  to  the  left,  a 
thermopolium  or  shop  for  hot  drinks ;  beyond  is  the  house  of  the 
Vestals  ;  beyond  this  the  custom-house  ;  and  a  little  further  on, 
where  another  street  runs  into  this  one  from  the  north  at  a  very 
acute  angle,  stands  a  public  fountain.  In  the  last-named  street  is 
a  surgeon's  house  ;  at  least  one  so  named  from  the  quantity  of 
surgical  instruments  found  in  it,  all  made  of  bronze.  On  the 
right  or  western  side  of  the  street,  by  which  we  entered,  the 
houses,  as  we  have  said,  are  built  on  the  declivity  of  a  rock,  and 
are  several  stories  high. 

The  fountain  is  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  the 
city  gate.  About  the  same  distance,  further  on,  the  street 
divides  into  two  ;  the  right-hand  turning  seems  a  by-street,  the 
left-hand  turning  conducts  you  to  the  Forum.  The  most  import- 
ant feature  in  this  space  is  a  house  called  the  house  of  Sallust  or 
of  Actaeon,  from  a  painting  in  it  representing  that  hunter's  death. 
It  stands  on  an  area  about  forty  yards  square,  and  is  encompassed 
on  three  sides  by  streets  ;  by  that  namely  which  we  have  been 
describing,  by  another  nearly  parallel  to  it,  and  by  a  third,  per- 
pendicular to  these  two.  The  whole  quarter  at  present  exca- 
vated, as  far  as  the  Street  of  the  Baths,  continued  by  the  Street 
of  Fortune,  is  divided,  by  six  longitudinal  and  one  transverse 
street,  into  what  the  Romans  called  islands,  or  insulated  masses 


22  THE    STREETS    OF    THE    CITY. 

of  houses.  Two  of  these  are  entirely  occupied  by  the  houses  of 
Pansa  and  of  the  Faun,  which,  with  their  courts  and  gardens,  are 
about  one  hundred  yards  long  by  forty  wide. 

From  the  Street  of  the  Baths  and  that  of  Fortune,  which 
bound  these  islands  on  the  south,  two  streets  lead  to  the  two  cor- 
ners of  the  Forum;  between  them  are  baths,  occupying  nearly 
the  whole  island.  Among  other  buildings  are  a  milk-shop  and 
o-ladiatorial  school.  At  the  northeast  corner  of  the  Forum  was 
a  triumphal  arch.  At  the  end  of  the  Street  of  the  Baths  and 
bef^inning  of  that  of  Fortune,  another  triumphal  arch  is  still  to 
be  made  out,  spanning  the  street  of  Mercury,  so  that  this  was 
plainly  the  way  of  state  into  the  city.  The  Forum  is  distant 
from  the  gate  of  Herculaneum  about  four  hundred  yards.  Of  it 
we  shall  give  a  full  description  in  its  place.  Near  the  south- 
eastern corner  two  streets  enter  it,  one  running  to  the  south,  the 
other  to  the  east.  We  will  follow  the  former  for  about  eighth- 
yards,  when  it  turns  eastward  for  two  hundred  yards,  and  con- 
ducts us  to  the  quarter  of  the  theatres.  The  other  street,  which 
runs  eastward  from  the  Forum,  is  of  more  importance,  and  is 
called  the  Street  of  the  Silversmiths  ;*  at  the  end  of  which  a  short 
street  turns  southwards,  and  meets  the  other  route  to  the  thea- 
tres. On  both  these  routes  the  houses  immediately  bordering  on 
the  ':treets  are  cleared;  but  between  them  is  a  large  rectangular 
plot  of  unexplored  ground.  Two  very  elegant  houses  at  the 
southwest  corner  of  the  Forum  were  uncovered  by  the  French 
general  Cliampionnel,  while  in  command  at  Naples,  and  are 
known  by  his  name.  On  the  western  side  of  the  Forum  two 
streets  led  down  towards  tlie  sea;  the  excavations  here  consist 
almost  entirely  of  public  buildings,  which  will  be  described  hei'e- 
after. 

The  quarter  of  the  theatres  comprises  a  large  temple,  called 
the  Temple  of  Neptune  or  Hercules,  a  temple  of  Isis,  a  temple 

*  Now  the  Street  of  Abundance. 


THE    THEATRES    OF    POMPEII. 


23 


of  ^Esculapius,   two  theatres,  the  Triangular  Forum,   and  the 
quarters  of  the  soldiers  or  gladiators.     On  the  north  and  east  it 


VIEW  OF  POMPEII.      {From  a  photograph.) 

is  bounded  by  streets;  to  the  south  and  west  it  seems  to  have 
been  enclosed  partly  by  the  town  walls,  partly  by  its  own.  Here 
the  continuous  excavation  ends,  and  we  must  cross  vineyards  to 


24  VILLA    OF   JULIA    FELIX. 

the  amphitheatre,  about  five  hundred  and  fifty  yards  distant  from 
the  theatre,  in  the  southeast  corner  of  the  city,  close  to  the  walls, 
and  in  an  angle  formed  by  them.  Close  to  the  amphitheatre  are 
traces  of  walls  supposed  to  have  belonged  to  a  Forum  Boarium, 
or  cattle  market.  Near  at  hand,  a  considerable  building,  called 
the  villa  of  Julia  Felix,  has  been  excavated  and  filled  up  again. 
On  the  walls  of  it  was  discovered  the  following  inscription,  which 
may  serve  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  wealth  of  some  of  the  Pom- 
peian  proprietors  : 

In  Praedis  Juli/e  Sp    F.  Felicis 

locantur 

Balneum  Venerium  et  Nongentum  Tabern^  Pergul^ 

CcENACULA  Ex  Idibus  Aug  Primis 

In  idus  Aug.  Sextas  Annos  Continuos  Quinque 

S.  Q.  D.  L.  E.  N.  C. 

That  is:  "  On  the  estate  of  Julia  Felix,  daughter  of  Spurius,  are 
to  be  let  a  bath,  a  venereum,  nine  hundred  shops,  with  booths  and 
garrets,  for  a  term  of  five  continuous  years,  from  the  first  to  the 
sixth  of  the  Ides  of  August.^'  Theibrmula,  S.  Q.  D.  L.  E.  N.  C, 
with  which  the  advertisement  concludes,  is  thought  to  stand  for 
— si  quis  domi  lenocinium  exerceat  ne  conducito:  'Met  no  one 
apply  who  keeps  a  brothel." 

A  little  to  the  south  of  the  smaller  theatre  was  discovered, 
in  1 85 1,  the  Gate  of  Stabise.  Hence  a  long  straight  street,  which 
has  been  called  the  Street  of  Stabioc,  traversed  the  whole  breadth 
of  the  city,  till  it  issued  out  on  the  northern  side  at  the  gate  of 
Vesuvius.  It  has  been  cleared  to  the  point  where  it  intersects 
the  Streets  of  Fortune  and  of  Nola,  which,  with  the  Street  of 
the  Baths,  traverse  the  city  in  its  length.  The  Street  of  Stabiae 
forms  the  boundary  of  the  excavations;  all  that  part  of  Pompeii 
which  lies  to  the  east  of  it,  with  the  exception  of  the  amphithea- 
tre, and  the  line  forming  the  Street  of  Nola,  being  still  occupied 
by  vineyards  and  cultivated  fields.     On  the  other  hand,  that  part 


PAVEMENTS    AND    SIDEWALKS. 


25 


of  the  city  lying  to  the  west  of  it  has  been  for  the  most  part  dis- 
interred; though  there  are  still  some  portions  lying  to  the  south 
and  west  of  the  Street  of  Abundance  and  the  Forum,  and  to  the 
east  ot  the  Vico  Storto,  which  remain  to  be  excavated. 

The  streets  of  Pompeii  are  paved  with  large  irreguf  .r  pieces 
of  lava  joined  neatly  together,  in  which  the  chariot  wheels  have 
worn  ruts,  still  discernible ;  in  some  places  they  are  an  inch  and  a 
half  deep,  and  in  the  narrow  streets  follow  one  track;  where  the 
streets  are  wider,  the  ruts  are  more  numerous  and  irregular.  The 
width  of  the  streets  varies  from  eight  or  nine  feet  to  about  twenty- 
two,  including  the  footpaths  or  trottoirs.  In  many  places  they 
are  so  narrow  that  they  may  be  crossed  at  one  stride ;  where  they 
are  wider,  a  raised  stepping-stone,  and  sometimes  two  or  three, 
have  been  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  crossing.  These  stones, 
though  in  the  middle  of  the  carriage  way,  did  not  much  incon- 
venience those  who  drove  about  in  the  biga,  or  two-horsed  chariot, 
as  the  wheels  passed  freely  in  the  spaces  left,  while  the  horses, 
being  loosel}'  harnessed,  might  either  have  stepped  over  the  stones 
or  passed  by  the  sides.  The  curb-stones  are  elevated  from  one 
foot  to  eighteen  inches,  and  separate  the  foot-pavement  from  the 
road.  Throughout  the  city  there  is  hardly  a  street  unfurnished 
with  this  convenience.  Where  there  is  width  to  admit  of  a  broad 
foot-path,  the  interval  between  the  curb  and  the  line  of  building 
is  filled  up  with  earth,  which  has  then  been  covered  over  with 
stucco,  and  sometimes  with  a  coarse  mosaic  of  brickwork.  Here 
and  there  traces  of  this  sort  of  pavement  still  remain,  especially 
in  those  streets  which  were  protected  by  porticoes. 


^RRANQEMENT  Of  ^RIVATE  J4oU^E^. 


We  will  now  give  an  account  of  some  of  the  most  remark- 
able private  houses  which  have  been  disinterred ;  of  the  paintings, 
domestic  utensils,  and  other  articles  found  in  them;  and  such  in- 
formation upon  the  domestic  manners  of  the  ancient  Italians  as 
may  seem  requisite  to  the  illustration  of  these  remains.  This 
branch  of  our  subject  is  not  less  interesting,  nor  less  extensive 
than  the  other.  Temples  and  theatres,  in  equal  preservation,  and 
of  greater  splendor  than  those  at  Pompeii,  may  be  seen  in  many 
places;  but  towards  acquainting  us  with  the  habitations,  the  pri- 
vate luxuries  and  elegancies  of  ancient  life,  not  all  the  scattered 
fragments  of  domestic  architecture  which  exist  elsewhere  have 
done  so  much  as  this  city,  with  its  fellow-sufferer,  Flerculaneum. 

Towards  the  last  years  of  the  republic,  the  Romans  natu- 
ralized the  arts  of  Greece  among  themselves ;  and  Grecian  archi- 
tecture came  into  fashion  at  Rome,  as  we  may  learn,  among  other 
sources,  from  the  letters  of  Cicero  to  Atticus,  which  bear  con- 
stant testimony  to  the  strong  interest  which  he  took  in  ornament- 
ing his  several  houses,  and  mention  Cyrus,  his  Greek  architect. 
At  this  time  immense  fortunes  were  easily  made  from  the  spoils 
of  new  conquests,  or  by  peculation  and  maladministration  of  sub- 
ject provinces,  and  the  money  thus  ill  and  easily  acquired  was 
squandered  in  the  most  lavish  luxury.  One  favorite  mode  of  in- 
dulgence was  in  splendor  of  building.  Lucius  Cassius  was  the 
first  who  ornamented  his  house  with  columns  of  foreign  marble  ; 
the  .'  were  only  six   in   number,  and   twelve  feet  high.     He  was 

26 


ELEGANCE    OF    DOMESTIC    ARCHITECTURE.  27 

soon  surpassed  by  Scaurus,  who  placed  in  his  house  columns  of 
the  black  marble  called  Lucullian,  thirty-eight  feet  high,  and  of 
such  vast  and  unusual  weight  that  the  superintendent  of  sewers, 
as  we  are  told  by  Pliny,*  took  security  for  any  injury  which 
might  happen  to  the  works  under  his  charge,  before  they  were 
suffered  to  be  conveyed  along  the  streets.  Another  prodigal,  by 
name  Mamurra,  set  the  example  of  lining  his  rooms  with  slabs 
of  marble.  The  best  estimate,  however,  of  the  growth  of  archi- 
tectural luxury  about  this  time  may  be  found  in  what  we  are  told 
by  Pliny,  that,  in  the  year  of  Rome  676,  the  house  of  Lepidus 
was  the  finest  in  the  city,  and  thirty-five  years  later  it  was  not 
the  hundredth.-f-  We  may  mention,  as  an  example  of  the  lavish 
expenditure  of  the  Romans,  that  Domitius  Ahenobarbus  offered 
for  the  house  of  Crassus  a  sum  amounting  to  near  $242,500, 
which  was  refused  by  the  owner.;];  Nor  were  they  less  extrava- 
gant in  their  countr}-  houses.  We  may  again  quote  Cicero,  whose 
attachment  to  his  Tusculan  and  Formian  villas,  and  interest  in 
ornamenting  them,  even  in  the  most  perilous  times,  is  well  known. 
Still  more  celebrated  are  the  villas  of  Lucullus  and  PoUio;  of  the 
latter  some  remains  are  still  to  be  seen  near  Pausilipo. 

Augustus  endeavored  by  his  example  to  check  this  extrav- 
agant passion,  but  he  produced  little  effect.  And  in  the  palaces 
of  the  emperors,  and  especially  the  Aurea  Domus,  the  Golden 
House  of  Nero,  the  domestic  architecture  of  Rome,  or,  we  might 
probably  say,  of  the  world,  reached  its  extreme. 

The  arrangement  of  the  houses,  though  varied,  of  course,  by 
local  circumstances,  and  according  to  the  rank  and  circumstances 
of  the  master,  was  pretty  generally  the  same  in  all.  The  prin- 
cipal rooms,  differing  only  in  size  and  ornament,  recur  every- 
where; those  supplemental  ones,  which  were  invented  only  for 
convenience  or  luxury,  vary  according  to  the  tastes  and  circum- 
stances of  the  master. 

*  Nat.  Hist,  xxxvi.  2  f  lb.  xxxvi.  15.        t  Scxagies  sestertium. 


28 


GROUND    PLAN    OF    ROMAN    HOUSE. 


OKOUND  PLAN  OF  A  KOMAN  HOUSE. 


The  private  part 
comprised  the  peri- 
style, bed  -  cham 
bers,  tricHnium 
ceci,  picture-galle 
ry,  Hbrary,  baths 
exedra,  xystus,  etc 
We  proceed  to  ex 
plain  the  meaning 
of  these  terms. 
Before  great 

mansions  there  was  generally  a  court  or  area,  upon  which  the 
portico  opened,  either  surrounding  three  sides  of  the  area,  or 
merely  running  along  the  front  of  the  house.  In  smaller  houses 
the  portico  ranged  even  with  the  street.  Within  the  portico,  or 
if  there  was  no  portico,  opening  directly  to  the  street,  was  the 
vestibule,  consisting  of  one  or  more  spacious  apartments.  It  was 
considered  to  be  without  the  house,  and  was  always  open  for  the 
reception  of  those  who  came  to  wait  there  until  the  doors  should 
be  opened.  The  prothyrum,  in  Greek  architecture,  was  the 
same  as  the  vestibule.  In  Roman  architecture,  it  was  a  passage- 
room,  between  the  outer  or  house-door  which  opened  to  the  ves- 
tibule, and  an  inner  door  which  closed  the  entrance  of  the  atrium. 
In  the  vestibule,  or  in  an  apartment  opening  upon  it,  the  porter, 
osfian'its,  usuall\'  had  his  seat. 

The  atrium,  or  cavsedium,  for  they  appear  to  have  signified 
the  same  thing,  was  the  most  important,  and  usually  the  most 
splendid  apartment  of  the  house.  Here  the  owner  received  his 
crowd  of  morning  visitors,  who  were  not  admitted  to  the  inner 
apartments.  The  term  is  thus  explained  by  Varro  :  "  The  hol- 
low of  the  house  (cavum  sedium)  is  a  covered  place  within  the 
walls,  left  open  to  the  common  use  of  all.  It  is  called  Tuscan, 
from  the  Tuscans,  after  the  Romans  began  to  imitate  their  cavae- 


EXTERIOR    APARTMENTS 


29 


dium.  The  word  atrium  is  derived  from  the  Atriates,  a  people 
of  Tuscany,  from  whom  the  pattern  of  it  was  taken."  Origi- 
nally, then,  the  atrium  was  the  common  room  ol  resort  for  the 
whole  family,  the  place  of  their  domestic  occupations;  and  such 
it  probably  continued  in  the  humbler  ranks  of  life.  A  general 
description  of  it  may  easily  be  given.  It  was  a  large  apartment,, 
roofed  over,  but  with  an  opening  in  the  centre,  called  coinpUivhim^ 
towards  which  the  roof  sloped,  so  as  to  throw  the  rain-water 
into  a  cistern  in  the  floor  called  impluviiim. 

The  roof  around  the  compluvium  was  edged  with  a  row  of 
highly  ornamented  tiles,  called  antefixes,  on  which  a  mask  or 
some  other  figure  was  moulded.  At  the  corners  there  were  usu- 
ally spouts,  in  the  form  of  lions'  or  dogs'  heads,  or  any  fantastical 
device  which  the  architect  might  fancy,  which  carried  the  rain- 
water clear  out  into  the  impluvium,  whence  it  passed  into  cisterns ; 
Irom  which  again  it  was  drawn  for  household  purposes.  For 
drinking,  river-water,  and  still  more,  well-water,  was  preferred. 
Often  the  atrium  was  adorned  with  fountains,  supplied  through 
leaden  or  earthenware  pipes,  from  aqueducts  or  other  raised  heads 
of  water;  for  the  Romans  knew  the  property  of  fluids,  which 
causes  them  to  stand  at  the  same  height  in  communicating 
vessels.  This  is  distinctly  recognized  by  Pliny,*  though  their 
common  use  of  aqueducts,  in  preference  to  pipes,  has  led  to  a 
supposition  that  this  great  hydrostatical  principle  was  unknown 
to  them.  The  breadth  of  the  impluvium,  according  to  Vitruvius, 
was  not  less  than  a  quarter,  nor  greater  than  a  third,  of  the  whole 
breadth  of  the  atrium;  its  length  was  regulated  by  the  same 
standard.  The  opening  above  it  was  often  shaded  by  a  colored 
veil,  which  diffused  a  softened  light,  and  moderated  the  intense 
heat  of  an  ItaHan'sun.-f-     The  splendid  columns  of  the  house  of 

*  Nat.  Hist.  xxxi.  6,  S.  31 :  Aqua  in  phimbo  subit  altitudinem  exortus  sui. 

f  Rubent  (vela  scil.)  in  cavis  sediura,  et  museum  a  sole  defendunt.  We  may  con- 
clude, then,  that  the  impluvium  was  sometimes  ornamented  with  moss  or  flowers, 
unless  the  words  cavis  aedium  may  be  extended  to  the  court  of  the  peristyle,  which  was 
commonly  laid  out  as  a  garden.     [The  latter  seems  more  likely.J 


30 


INTERIOR    APARTMENTS. 


Scaurus,  at  Rome,  were  placed,  as  we  learn  from  Pliny,*  in  the 
atrium  oi"  his  house.  The  walls  were  painted  with  landscapes  or 
arabesques — a  practice  introduced  about  the  time  of  Augustus — 
or  linea  with  slabs  of  foreign  and  costly  marbles,  of  which  the 
Romans  were  passionately  fond.  The  pavement  was  composed 
of  the  same  precious  material,  or  of  stili   more  valuable  mosaics. 

The  tablinum 
was  an  append- 
age of  the  atrium, 
and  usually  en- 
tirel}'  open  to  it. 
It  contained,  as  its 
name  imports,f 
the  family  arch- 
ives, the  statues, 
pictures,  geneal- 
ogical tables,  and 
other  relics  of  a 
long  line  of  an- 
cestors. 

Ala:,  wings, 
were  similar  but 
smaller  apart- 
ments, or  rathei 
recesses,  on  each 
side  of  the  I'u; 
ther  part  of  the 
atrium.  Fauces, 
jaws,  were    pas 

sages,  more  especially  those  which  passed  to  the  interior  of  the 
house  from  the  atrium. 

*  xxxvi.    1, 

t  From  tiihula,  or  tubella,  a  picture.     Another  derivation  is,     quasi  e  tabulis  coua- 
pactuni,"  because  the  lar;:e  openings  into  i1  might  be  clo=('d  by  siuiltcrs. 


VESTIBULE    OF    A    POMPEIAN    HOUSE. 


DINING    HAI.LS, 


V 


In  houses  of  small  extent,  strangers  were  lodged  in  cham- 
bers which  surrounded  and  opened  into  the  atrium.  The  great, 
whose  connections  spread  into  the  provinces,  and  who  were 
visited  by  numbers  who,  on  coming  to  Rome,  expected  to  profit 
by  their  hospitality,  had  usually  a  hospitium^  or  place  of  recep- 
tion for  strangers,  either  separate,  or  among  the  dependencies  of 
their  palaces. 

Of  the  private  apartments  the  first  to  be  mentioned  is  the 
peristyle,  which  usually  lay  behind  the  atrium,  and  communicated 
with  it  both  through  the  tablinum  and  by  fauces.  In  its  general 
plan  it  resembled  the  atrium,  being  in  fact  a  court,  open  to  the 
sky  in  the  middle,  and  surrounded  by  a  colonnade,  but  it  was 
larger  in  its  dimensions,  and  the  centre  court  was  often  decorated 
with  shrubs  and  flowers  and  fountains,  and  was  then  called  xystns. 
It  should  be  greater  in  extent  when  measured  transversely  than 
in  length,'"^  and  the  intercolumniations  should  not  exceed  four,  nor 
fall  short  of  three  diameters  of  the  columns. 

Of  the  arrangement  of  the  bed-chambers  we  know  little. 
They  seem  to  have  been  small  and  inconvenient.  When  there 
was  room  they  had  usually  a  procoeton,  or  ante-chamber.  Vitru- 
vius  recommends  that  they  should  face  the  east,  for  the  benefit 
of  the  early  sun.  One  of  the  most  important  apartments  in  the 
whole  house  was  the  triclinium,  or  dining-room,  so  named  from 
the  three  beds,  which  encompassed  the  table  on  three  sides, 
leaving  the  fourth  open  to  the  attendants.  The  prodigality 
of  the  Romans  In  matters  of  eating  is  well  known,  and  it  ex- 
tended to  all  matters  connected  with  the  pleasures  of  the  table. 
In  their  rooms,  their  couches,  and  all  the  furniture  of  their  enter- 
tainments, magnificence  and  extravagance  were  carried  to  their 
highest  point.  The  rich  had  several  of  these  apartments,  to  be 
used  at  different  seasons,  or  on  various  occasions.  Lucullus,  cele- 
brated  for  his   wealth   and   profuse   expenditure,   had  a  cerram 

♦This  rule,  however,  is  seldom  observed  in  the  Pompeian  houses. 


32 


THE    TRICLINIUM. 


Standard  of  expenditure  for  each  triclinium,  so  that  when  his  ser- 
vants were  told  which  hall  he  was  to  sup  in,  they  knew  exactly 
the  style  of  entertainment  to  be  prepared;  and  there  is  a  well- 
known  story  of  the  way  in  which  he  deceived  Pompey  and  Cicero, 
when  thev  insisted  on  going  home  with  him  to  see  his  family  sup- 
per, by  merely  sending  word  home  that  he  would  sup  in  the 
Apollo,  one  of  the  most  splendid  of  his  halls,  in  w^hich  he  never 
gave  an  entertainment  for  less  than  50,000  denarii,  about  $8,000, 
Sometimes  the  ceiling  was  contrived  to  open  and  let  down  a  sec- 
ond course  of  meats,  with  showers  of  flowers  and  perfumed 
waters,  while  rope-dancers  performed  their  evolutions  over  the 
heads  of  the  company.  The  performances  of  these  fiinambuli 
are  frequently  represented  in  paintings  at  Pompeii.  Mazois,  in 
his  work  entitled  "  Le  Palais  de  Scaurus,"  has  given  a  fancy  pic- 
ture of  the  habitation  of  a  Roman  noble  of  the  highest  class,  in 
which  he  has  embodied  all  the  scattered  notices  of  domestic  life, 
which  a  diligent  perusal  of  the  Latin  writers  has  enabled  him  to 
collect.  His  description  of  the  triclinium  of  Scaurus  will  give 
the  reader  the  best  notion  of  the  style  in  which  such  an  apartment 
was  furnished  and  ornamented.  For  each  particular  in  the  de- 
scription he  quotes  some  authority.  We  shall  not,  however, 
encumber  our  pages  with  relerences  to  a  long  list  of  books  not 
likeh'  to  be  in  the  possession  of  most  readers. 

"  Bronze  lamps, "^^  dependent  from  chains  of  the  same  metal, 
or  raised  on  richly -wrought  candelabra,  threw  around  the  room 
a  brilliant  light.  Slaves  set  apart  for  this  service  watched  them, 
trimmed  the  wicks,  and  from  time  to  time  supplied  them  with 
oil. 

"  The  triclinium  is  twice  as  long  as  it  is  broad,  and  divided, 
as  it  were,  into  two  parts  —  the  upper  occupied  by  the  table  and 
the  couches,  the  lower  left  empty  for  the  convenience  of  the 
attendants  and  spectators.     Around  the  former  the  walls,  up  to 

*Tli('  best  of  fliese  wore  nuulo  i't  ^jrina.     Tlic  inoic  cominonones  cost  from  $100  to- 
$125;  some  sold  for  as  much  ;is  $2000.     I'Mn.  llisi.  Nat.  xxxiv.  y. 


THE    TRICLINIUM. 


33 


a  certain  height,  are  ornamented  with  valuable  hangings.  The 
decorations  ot  the  rest  of  the  room  are  noble,  and  yet  appropriate 
to  its  destination  ;  garlands,  entwined  with  ivy  and  vine-branches, 
divide  the  walls  into  compartments  bordered  with  fanciful  orna- 
ments ;  in  the  centre  of  each  of  which  are  painted  with  admirable 

elegance  young  Fauns, 
or  half-naked  Bacchant- 
es, carrying  thyrsi,  vases 
and  all  the  furniture  of 
festive  meetings.  Above 
the  columns  is  a  large 
frieze,  divided  into 
twelve  compartments  ; 
each  of  these  is  sur- 
mounted by  one  of  the 
signs  of  the  Zodiac,  and 
contains  paintings  of  the 
meats  which  are  in  high- 
est season  in  each  month ; 
so  that  under  Sagittary  (December),  we  see  shrimps,  shell-fish, 
and  birds  of  passage  ;  under  Capricorn  (January),  lobsters,  sea- 
fish,  wild-boar  and  game  ;  under  Aquarius  (February),  ducks, 
plovers,  pigeons,  water-rails,  etc. 

"  The  table,  made  of  citron  wood*  from  the  extremity  of 
Mauritania,  more  precious  than  gold,  rested  upon  ivory  feet,  and 
was  covered  by  a  plateau  of  massive  silver,  chased  and  carved, 
weighing  five  hundred  pounds.  The  couches,  which  would  con- 
tain thirty  persons,  were  made  of  bronze  overlaid  with  ornaments, 
in  silver,  gold  and  tortoise-shell  ;  the  mattresses  of  Gallic  wool,, 

*  These  citreae  mensse  have  g'iven  rise  to  considerable  discussion.  Pliny  says  that 
they  were  made  of  the  roots  or  knots  nf  the  wood,  and  esteemed  on  account  of  their  veins 
and  markings,  which  were  like  a  tig^er's  skin,  or  peacock's  fail  (xiii.  91,  sqq  )  Some 
copies  read  cedri  for  cilri ;  and  it  has  been  susrgested  that  the  cypress  is  really  meant,  the 
roots  and  knots  of  which  are  large  and  veined;  whereas  the  citron  is  never  used  ibr 
cabinet  work,  and  is  neither  veined  nor  knotted. 


TUICLINIUM. 


34 


THE    TRICLINIUM. 


dyed  purple  ;  the  valuable  cushions,  stuffed  with  feathers,  were 
covered  with  stuffs  woven  and  embroidered  with  silk  mixed  with 
threads  of  gold.  Chrysippus  told  us  that  the}^  were  made  at 
Babylon,  and  had  cost  four  millions  of  sesterces.* 

"  The  mosaic  pavement,  by  a  singular  caprice  of  the  archi- 
tect, represented  all  the  fragments  of  a  feast,  as  if  they  had  fallen 
in  common  course  on  the  floor  ;  so  that  at  the  first  glance  the 
room  seemed  not  to  have  been  swept  since  the  last  meal,  and  it 
was  called  from  hence,  asarotos  olhos^  the  unswept  saloon.  At 
the  bottom  of  the  hall  were  set  out  vases  of  Corinthian  brass. 
This  triclinium,  the  largest  of  four  in  the  palace  of  Scaurus,  would 
easily  contain  a  table  of  sixty  covers  ;f  but  he  seldom  brings  to- 
gether so  large  a  number  of  guests,  and  when  on  great  occasions 
he  entertains  four  or  five  hundred  persons,  it  is  usually  in  the 
atrium.  This  eating-room  is  reserved  for  summer;  he  has  others 
for  spring,  autumn,  and  winter,  for  the  Romans  turn  the  change 
of  season  into  a  source  of  luxury.  His  establishment  is  so  ap- 
pointed that  for  each  triclinium  he  has  a  great  number  of  tables 
of  different  sorts,  and  each  table  has  its  own  service  and  its  par- 
ticular attendants. 

"  While  waiting  for  their  masters,  young  slaves  strewed  over 
the  pavement  saw-dust  dyed  with  saftron  and  vermilion,  mixed 
with  a  brilliant  powder  made  from  the  lapis  specularis,  or  talc.'' 

Pinacotheca,  the  picture-gallery,  and  Bibliotheca,  the  li- 
brary, need  no  explanation.  The  latter  was  usually  small,  as  a 
large  number  of  rolls  (volumina)  could  be  contained  within  a 
narrow  space. 

Exedra  bore  a  double  signification.  It  is  either  a  seat,  in- 
tended to  contain  a  number  of  persons,  like  those  before  the  Gate 

*  About  $161,000. 

f  The  common  furniture  of  a  triclinium  was  three  couches,  placed  on  three  sides  of 
a  square  table,  eaeli  contaiiiinjT  three  persons,  in  accordance  with  the  favorite  maxim, 
thai  a  party  should  not  consist  of  more  tlian  tiie  Muses  nor  of  fewer  tlian  tlie  Graces,  not 
more  than  nine  nor  less  than  three.  Where  such  numbers  were  entertamed,  couches 
must  have  been  placed  alonj;  the  sides  of  long  tables. 


MATERIALS    AND    CONSTRUCTION.  35 

of  Herculaneum,  or  a  spacious  hall  for  conversation  and  the  gen- 
eral purposes  of  society.  In  the  public  baths,  the  word  is  espe- 
cially applied  to  those  apartments  which  were  frequented  by  the 
philosophers. 

Such  was  the  arrangement,  such  the  chief  apartments  of  a 
Roman  house;  they  were  on  the  ground-floor,  the  upper  stories 
being  for  the  most  part  left  to  the  occupation  of  slaves,  freed- 
men,  and  the  lower  branches  of  the  family.  We  must  except, 
however,  the  terrace  upon  the  top  of  all  (solarium),  a  favorite 
place  of  resort,  often  adorned  with  rare  flowers  and  shrubs, 
planted  in  huge  cases  of  earth,  and  with  fountains  and  trellises, 
under  which  the  evening  meal  might  at  pleasure  be  taken. 

The  reader  will  not,  of  course,  suppose  that  in  all  houses  all 
these  apartments  were  to  be  found,  and  in  the  same  order.  From 
the  confined  dwelling  of  the  tradesman  to  the  palace  of  the  patri- 
cian, all  degrees  oi  accommodation  and  elegance  were  to  be 
found.  The  only  object  of  this  long  catalogue  is  to  familiarize 
the  reader  with  the  general  type  of  those  objects  which  we  are 
about  to  present  to  him,  and  to  explain  at  once,  and  collectively, 
those  terms  of  art  which  will  be  of  most  frequent  occurrence. 

The  reader  will  gain  a  clear  idea  of  a  Roman  house  from 
the  ground-plan  of  that  of  Diomedes,  given  a  little  further  on, 
which  is  one  of  the  largest  and  most  regularly  constructed  at 
Pompeii. 

We  may  here  add  a  few  observations,  derived,  as  well  as 
much  of  the  preceding  matter,  from  the  valuable  work  of  Mazois, 
relative  to  the  materials  and  method  of  construction  of  the  Pom- 
peian  houses.  Every  species  of  masonry  described  by  Vitruvius, 
it  is  said,  may  here  be  met  with;  but  the  cheapest  and  most  dur- 
able sorts  have  been  generally  preferred. 

Copper,  iron,  lead,  have  been  found  employed  for  the  same 
purposes  as  those  for  which  we  now  use  them.  Iron  is  more 
plentiful  than  copper,  contrary  to  what  is  generally  observed  in 


^6  THE    SALVE    LUCRU. 

ancient  works.  It  is  evident  from  articles  of  furniture,  etc.,  found 
in  the  ruins,  that  the  Italians  were  highly  skilled  in  the  art  of 
working  metals,  yet  they  seem  to  have  excelled  in  ornamental 
work,  rather  than  in  the  solid  and  neat  construction  of  useful  arti- 
cles. For  instance,  their  lock-work  is  coarse,  hardly  equal  to 
that  which  is  now  executed  in  the  same  country;  while  the  ex- 
ternal ornaments  of  doors,  bolts,  handles,  etc.,  are  elegantly 
wrought. 

The  first  private  house  that  we  will  describe  is  found  by 
passing  down  a  street  from  the  Street  of  Abundance.  The  visitor 
finds  on  the  right,  just  beyond  the  back  wall  of  the  Thernice 
Stabianse,  the  entrance  of  a  handsome  dwelling.  An  inscription 
in  red  letters  on  the  outside  wall  containing  the  name  of  Siricus 
has  occasioned  the  conjecture  that  this  was  the  name  of  the 
owner  of  the  house  ;  while  a  mosaic  inscription  on  the  floor  of 
the  prothyrum,  having  the  words  Salve  Lucru,  has  given  rise 
to  a  second  appellation  for  the  dwelling. 

On  the  left  of  the  prothyrum  is  an  apartment  with  two 
doors,  one  opening  on  a  wooden  staircase  leading  to  an  upper 
floor,  the  other  forming  the  entry  to  a  room  next  the  street,  with 
X  window  like  that  described  in  the  other  room  next  the  prothy- 
rum. The  walls  of  this  chamber  are  white,  divided  by  red  and 
fellow  zones  into  compartments,  in  which  are  depicted  the  sym- 
bols of  the  principal  deities — as  the  eagle  and  globe  of  Jove,  the 
peacock  of  Juno,  the  lance,  helmet  and  shield  of  Minerva,  the 
panther  of  Bacchus,  a  Sphinx,  having  near  it  the  mystical  chest 
and  sistrum  of  Isis,  who  was  the  Venus  Physica  of  the  Pomp- 
eians,  the  caduceus  and  other  emblems  of  Mercury,  etc.  There 
are  also  two  small  landscapes. 

Next  to  this  is  a  large  and  handsome  exedra,  decorated  with 
good  pictures,  a  third  of  the  size  of  life.  That  on  the  left  repre- 
sents Neptune  and  Apollo  presiding  at  the  building  of  Tro}-;  the 
former,  armed  with  his  trident,   is  seated  ;  the   latter,  crov.-ncd 


PAINTINGS    AND    DECORATIONS. 


37 


with  laurel,  is  on  foot,  and  leans  with  his  right  arm  on  a  lyre. 
On  the  wall  opposite  to  this  is  a  picture  of  Vulcan  present- 
inof  the  arms  of  Achilles  to  Thetis.  The  celebrated  shield  is 
supported  by  Vulcan  on  the  anvil,  and  displayed  to  Thetis,  who 
is  seated,  whilst  a  winged   female   figure   standing   at  her  side 


HERCULES  DRUNK.     (Front  Pompeii.) 

points  out  to  her  with  a  rod  the  marvels  of  its  workmanship. 
Agreeably  to  the  Homeric  description  the  shield  is  encircled  with 
the  signs  of  the  zodiac,  and  in  the  middle  are  the  bear,  the 
dragon,  etc.  On  the  ground  are  the  breast-plate,  the  greaves 
and  the  helmet. 

In  the  third  picture  is  seen  Hercules  crowned  with  ivy,  ine- 
briated, and  lying  on  the  ground  at  the  foot  of  a  cypress  tree. 

46873 


^8  THE    DRUNKEN    HERCULES. 

He  is  clothed  in  a  sandyx^  or  short  transparent  tunic,  and  has  on 
his  feet  a  sort  of  shoes,  one  of  which  he  has  kicked  off.  He  sup- 
ports himself  on  his  left  arm,  while  the  right  is  raised  in  drunken 
ecstasy.  A  little  Cupid  plucks  at  his  garland  of  ivy,  another 
tries  to  drag  away  his  ample  goblet,  hi  the  middle  of  the  pic- 
ture is  an  altar  with  festoons.  On  the  top  of  it  three  Cupids, 
assisted  b}'  another  who  has  climbed  up  the  tree,  endeavor  to 
bear  on  their  shoulders  the  hero's  quiver;  while  on  the  ground, 
to  the  left  of  the  altar,  four  other  Cupids  are  sporting  with  his 
club.  A  votive  tablet  with  an  image  of  Bacchus  rests  at  the  foot 
of  the  altar,  and  indicates  the  god  to  whom  Hercules  has  been 
sacrificing. 

On  the  left  of  the  picture,  on  a  little  eminence,  is  a  group  of 
three  females  round  a  column  having  on  its  top  a  vase.  The 
chief  and  central  figure,  which  is  naked  to  the  waist,  has  in  her 
hand  a  fan ;  she  seems  to  look  with  interest  on  the  drunken  hero, 
but  whom  she  represents  it  is  difficult  to  say.  On  the  right,  half 
way  up  a  mountain,  sits  Bacchus,  looking  on  the  scene  with  a  com- 
placency not  unmixed  with  surprise.  He  is  surrounded  by  his 
usual  rout  of  attendants,  one  of  whom  bears  a  thyrsus.  The  an- 
nexed engraving  will  convey  a  clearer  idea  of  the  picture,  which 
for  grace,  grandeur  of  composition,  and  delicacy  and  freshness  of 
coloring,  is  among  the  best  discovered  at  Pompeii.  The  exedra 
is  also  adorned  with  many  other  paintings  and  ornaments  which 
it  would  be  too  long  to  describe. 

On  the  same  side  of  the  atrium,  beyond  a  passage  leading 
to  a  kitchen  with  an  oven,  is  an  elegant  triclinium  fenesiratum 
looking  upon  an  adjacent  garden.  The  walls  are  black,  divided 
by  red  and  yellow  zones,  with  candelabra  and  architectural  mem- 
bers intermixed  with  quadrupeds,  birds,  dolphins,  Tritons,  masks, 
etc.,  and  in  the  middle  of  each  compartment  is  a  Bacchante.  \\\ 
each  wall  are  three  small  paintings  executed  with  greater  care. 


WALL    DECORATION. 


39 


The  first,  which  has  been  removed,  represented  ^neas  in  his 
tent,  who,  accompanied  by  Mnestheus,  Achates,  and  young 
Ascanius,  presents  his  thigh  to  the  surgeon,  lapis,  in  order  to  ex- 
tract from  it  the  barb  of  an  arrow,  -^neas  supports  himself 
with  the  lance  in  his  right  hand,  and  leans  with  the  other  on  the 
shoulder  of  his  son,  who,  overcome  by  his  father's  misfortune, 
wipes  the  tears  from  his  eyes  with  the  hem  of  his  robe;  while 
lapis,  kneeling  on  one  leg  before  the  hero,  is  intent  on  extracting 
the  barb  with  his  forceps.  But  the  wound  is  not  to  be  healed 
without  divine  interposition.  In  the  background  of  the  picture 
Venus  is  hastening  to  her  son's  relief,  bearing  in  her  hand  the 
branch  of  dictamnus,  which  is  to  restore  him  to  his  pristine  vigor. 

The  subject  of  the  second  picture,  v»'hich  is  much  damaged, 
is  not  easy  to  be  explained.  It  represents  a  naked  hero,  armed 
with  sword  and  spear,  to  whom  a  woman  crowned  with  laurel 
and  clothed  in  an  ample  pepliiin  is  pointing  out  another  female 
figure.  The  latter  expresses  by  her  gestures  her  grief  and  in- 
dignation at  the  warrior's  departure,  the  imminence  of  which  is 
signified  by  the  chariot  that  awaits  him.  Signor  Fiorelli  thinks 
he  recognizes  in  this  picture  Turnus,  Lavinia,  and  Amata,  when 
the  queen  supplicates  Turnus  not  to  light  with  the  Trojans. 

The  third  painting  represents  Hermaphroditus  surrounded 
by  six  nymphs,  variously  employed. 

From  the  atrium  a  narrow  fauces  or  corridor  led  into  the 
garden.  Three  steps  on  the  left  connected  this  part  of  the  house 
with  the  other  and  more  magnificent  portion  having  its  entrance 
from  the  Strada  Stabiana.  The  garden  was  surrounded  on  two 
sides  with  a  portico,  on  the  right  of  which  are  some  apartments 
which  do  not  require  particular  notice. 

The  house  entered  at  a  higher  level,  by  the  three  steps  just 
mentioned,  was  at  first  considered  as  a  separate  house,  and  by 
Fiorelli  has  been  called  the  House  of  the  Russian  Princes, 
from  some  excavations  made  here  in  1851  in  presence  of  the  sons 


40 


THE    PERISTYLE. 


of  the  Emperor  of  Russia.  The  peculiarities  observable  in  this 
house  are  that  the  atrium  and  peristyle  are  broader  than  they  are 
deep,  and  that  they  are  not  separated  by  a  tablinum  and  other 
rooms,  but  simply  by  a  wall.  In  the  centre  of  the  Tuscan  atrium, 
entered  from  the  Street  of  Stabiae,  is  a  handsome  marble  im- 
pluvium.  At  the  top  of  it  is  a  square  cippus,  coated  with  marble, 
and  having  a  leaden  pipe  which  flung  the  water  into  a  square  vase 
or  basin  supported  by  a  little  base  of  white  marble,  ornamented 
with  acanthus  leaves.  Beside  the  fountain  is  a  table  of  the  same 
material,  supported  by  two  legs  beautifully  sculptured,  of  a 
chimgera  and  a  griffin.  On  this  table  was  a  little  bronze  group 
of  Hercules  armed  with  his  club,  and  a  young  Phrygian  kneeling 
before  him. 

From  the  atrium  the  peristyle  is  entered  by  a  large  door.  It 
is  about  forty-six  feet  broad  and  thirty-six  deep,  and  has  ten  col- 
umns, one  of  which  still  sustains  a  fragment  of  the  entablature. 
The  walls  were  painted  in  red  and  yellow  panels  alternately,  with 
figures  of  Latona,  Diana,  Bacchantes,  etc.  At  the  bottom  of 
the  peristyle,  on  the  right,  is  a  triclinium..  In  the  middle  is  a 
small  cecHs,  with  two  pillars  richly  ornamented  with  arabesques. 
A  little  apartment  on  the  left  has  several  pictures. 

In  this  house,  at  a  height  of  seventeen  Neapolitan  palms 
(nearly  fifteen  feet)  from  the  level  of  the  ground,  were  discovered 
four  skeletons  together  in  an  almost  vertical  position.  Twelve 
palms  lower  was  another  skeleton,  with  a  hatchet  near  it.  This 
man  appears  to  have  pierced  the  wall  of  one  of  the  small  cham- 
bers of  the  prothyrum,  and  was  about  to  enter  it,  when  he  was 
smothered,  either  by  the  falling  in  of  the  earth  or  b}^  the  mephitic 
exhalations.  It  has  been  thought  that  these  persons  perished 
while  engaged  in  searching  for  valuables  after  the  catastrophe. 

In  the  back  room  of  a  thermopolium  not  far  from  this  spot 
was  discovered  a  graffito  of  part  of  the  tirst  line  of  the  ^neid, 
in  which  the  rs  were  turned  into  /s  : 

Alma  vilunique  cano  Tlo. 


THE    HOUSE    OF    SIRICUS. 


4I 


We  will  now  return  to  the  house  of  Siricus.  Contiofuous  to 
it  in  the  Via  del  Lupanare  is  a  building  having  two  doors  sepa- 
rated with  pilasters.  By  way  of  sign,  an  elephant  was  painted 
on  the  wall,  enveloped  by  a  large  serpent  and  tended  by  a  pigmy. 
Above  was  the  inscription  :  Sittius  restituit  elephantum;  and  be- 
neath the  following  : 

Hospitium  hie  locatur 
Triclinium  cum  tribus  lecUs 
Et  comm. 

Both  the  painting  and  the  inscription  have  now  disappeared. 
The  discovery  is  curious,  as  proving  that  the  ancients  used  signs 
for  their  taverns.  Orelli  has  given  in  his  Inscriptions  in  Gaul, 
one  of  a  Cock  (a  Gallo  Gallinacio).  In  that  at  Pompeii  the  last 
word  stands  for  "commodis."  "  Here  is  a  triclinium  with  three 
beds  and  other  conveniences." 

Just  onoosite  the  gate  of  Siricus  was  another  house  also  sup- 
posed to  b^  a  caupona^  or  cavern,  from  some  chequers  painted  on 
the  door-posts.  On  the  wall  are  depicted  two  large  serpents,  the 
emblem  so  frequently  met  with.  They  were  the  symbols  of  the 
Lares  viales,  or  compitales,  and,  as  we  have  said,  rendered  the 
place  sacred  against  the  commission  of  any  nuisance.  The  cross, 
which  is  sometimes  seen  on  the  walls  of  houses  in  a  modern 
Italian  city,  serves  the  same  purpose.  Above  the  serpents  is  the 
following  inscription,  in  tolerably  large  white  characters:  Otio- 
sis  locus  hie  non  est,  discede  morator.  "  Lingerer,  depart;  this 
is  no  place  for  idlers."  An  injunction  by  the  way  which  seems 
rather  to  militate  against  the  idea  of  the  house  having  been  a 
tavern. 

The  inscription  just  mentioned  suggests  an  opportunity  for 
giving  a  short  account  of  similar  ones;  we  speak  not  of  inscrip- 
tions cut  in  stone,  and  affixed  to  temples  and  other  public  build- 
ings, but  such  as  were  either  painted,  scrawled  in  charcoal  and 
other  substances,  or  scratched  with  a  sharp  point,  such  as  a   nail 


42 


POLITICAL    INSCRIPTIONS. 


or  knife,  on  the  stucco  of  walls  and  pillars.  Such  inscriptions 
afford  us  a  peep  both  into  the  public  and  the  domestic  life  of  the 
Pompeians.  Advertisements  of  a  political  character  were  com- 
monly painted  on  the  exterior  walls  in  large  letters  in  black  and 
red  paint;  poetical  effusions  or  pasquinades,  etc.,  with  coal  or 
chalk  (Martial,  Epig.  xii.  6i,  9);  while  notices  of  a  domestic 
kind  are  more  usually  found  in  the  interior  of  the  houses,  scratched, 
as  we  have  said,  on  the  stucco,  whence  they  have  been  called 
graffiti. 

The  numerous  political  inscriptions  bear  testimony  to  the 
activity  of  public  life  in  Pompeii.  These  advertisements,  which 
for  the  most  part  turn  on  the  election  of  sediles,  duumvirs,  and 
other  magistrates,  show  that  the  Pompeians,  at  the  time  when 
their  city  was  destroyed,  were  in  all  the  excitement  of  the  ap- 
proaching comitia  for  the  election  of  such  magistrates.  We  shall 
here  select  a  few  of  the  more  interesting  inscriptions,  both  relat- 
ing to  public  and  domestic  matters. 

It  seems  to  have  been  customary  to  paint  over  ol  1  advertise- 
ments with  a  coat  of  white,  and  so  to  obtain  a  fresh  : surface  for 
new  ones,  just  as  the  bill-sticker  remorselessly  pastes  V\:s  bill  over 
that  of  some  brother  of  the  brush.  In  some  cases  this  new  coat- 
ing has  been  detached,  or  has  fallen  off,  thus  revealing  an  older 
notice,  belonging  sometimes  to  a  period  antecedent  to  the  Social 
War.  Inscriptions  of  this  kind  are  found  only  on  the  solid  stone 
pillars  of  the  more  ancient  buildings,  and  not  on  the  stucco,  with 
which  at  a  later  period  almost  everything  was  plastered.  Their 
antiquity  is  further  certified  by  some  of  them  being  in  the  Oscan 
dialect;  while  those  in  Latin  are  distinguished  from  more  recent 
ones  in  the  same  language  by  the  forms  of  the  letters,  b}^  the 
names  which  appear  in  them,  and  by  archaisms  in  grammar  and 
orthography.  Inscriptions  in  the  Greek  tongue  are  rare,  though 
the  letters  of  the  Greek  alphabet,  scratched  on  walls  at  a  little 
height  from  the   ground,  and  thus  evidently  the  work  of  school- 


ELECTIONEERING    ADVERTISEMENTS.  43 

boys,   show  that  Greek  must  have  been   extensively  taught  at 
Pompeii. 

The  normal  form  of  electioneering  advertisements  contains 
the  name  of  the  person  recommended,  the  office  for  which  he  is  a 
candidate,  and  the  name  of  the  person,  or  persons,  who  recom- 
mended him,  accompanied  in  general  with  the  formula  O.  V.  F. 
From  examples  written  in  full,  recently  discovered,  it  appears  that 
these  letters  mean  or  at  (or  oranf)  vos  faciatis :  "  beseech  you  to 
create"  (sedile  and  so  forth).  The  letters  in  question  were,  be- 
fore this  discovery,  very  often  thought  to  stand  for  orat  utfaveat^ 
"  begs  him  to  favor;"  and  thus  the  meaning  of  the  inscription  was 
entirely  reversed,  and  the  person  recommending  converted  into 
the  person  recommended.  In  the  following  example  for  instance 
— M.  Holconium  Priscum  dmimvirum  juri  dicundo  O.  V.  F. 
Phillppus;  the  meaning,  according  to  the  older  interpretation, 
will  be:  "  Philippus  beseeches  M.  Holconius  Priscus,  duumvir  of 
justice,  to  favor  or  patronize  him;"  whereas  the  true  sense  is: 
"  Philippus  beseeches  you  to  create  M.  Holconius  Priscus  a 
duumvir  of  justice."  From  this  misinterpretation  wrong  names 
have  frequently  been  given  to  houses ;  as  is  probabty  the  case,  for 
instance,  with  the  house  of  Pansa,  which,  from  the  tenor  of  the 
inscription,  more  probably  belonged  to  Paratus,  who  posted  on 
his  own  walls  a  request  to  passers-by  to  make  his  friend  Pansa 
sedile.  Had  it  been  the  house  of  Pansa,  when  a  candidate  for  the 
aedileship,  and  if  it  was  the  custom  for  such  candidates  to  post 
recommendatory  notices  on  their  doors,  it  may  be  supposed  that 
Pansa  would  have  exhibited  more  than  this  single  one  from  a 
solitary  friend.  This  is  a  more  probable  meaning  than  that  Par- 
atus solicited  in  this  way  the  patronage  of  Pansa;  for  it  would 
have  been  a  bad  method  to  gain  it  by  disfiguring  his  walls  in  so 
impertinent  a  manner.  We  do  not  indeed  mean  to  deny  that 
adulatory  inscriptions  were  sometimes  written  on  the  houses  or 
doors  of  powerful  or  popular  men  or  pretty  women.     A  verse  of 


44 


ELECTIONEERING    ADVERTISEMENTS. 


Plautus  bears  testimony  to  such  a  custom  (Impleantur  mese  foreis 
elogiorum  carbonibus.  Mercator^  act  ii.  sc.  3).  But  tirst,  the 
inscription  on  the  so-called  house  of  Pansa  was  evidently  not  of 
an  adulatory,  but  of  a  recommendatory  character;  and  secondly, 
those  of  the  former  kind,  as  we  learn  from  this  same  verse,  seem 
to  have  been  written  by  passing  admirers,  with  some  material 
ready  to  the  hand,  such  as  charcoal  or  the  like,  and  not  painted 
on  the  walls  with  care,  and  time,  and  expense;  a  proceeding 
which  we  can  hardly  think  the  owner  of  the  house,  if  he  was  a 
modest  and  sensible  man,  would  have  tolerated. 

Recommendations  of  candidates   were    often    accompanied 
with   a  word  or  two  in  their  praise;  as  dignus^  or  dignissimus 
est^  -probissimus^  jiivenis  integer^  frugi^  omni  bono  meritus^  and 
the  like.     Such  recommendations  are  sometimes  subscribed  by 
guilds  or  corporations,  as  well  as  by  private  persons,  and  show 
that  there  were  a  great   many  such  trade   unions  at   Pompeii 
Thus  we  find  mentioned  the  offectores  (dyers),  -pistores  (bakers) 
aurifices    (goldsmiths),    ■pomarii   (fruiterers),    cceparii   (green 
grocers),  Ugnarii  (wood  merchants),  plostrarii  (cart-wrights) 
piscicapi  (fishermen),  agricolce  (husbandmen),  midiones  (mule 
teers),  culinarii  (cooks) ^Jtdlones  (fullers),  and  others.     Adver 
tisements  of  this  sort  appear  to  have  been  laid  hold  of  as  a  vehicle 
for  street  wit,  just  as  electioneering  squibs  are  perpetrated  among 
ourselves.     Thus  we  find  mentioned,  as  if  among  the  companies, 
the  pilicrepi  (ball-players),  the  seribibi  (late   topers),  the  dor- 
mieid.es  universi  (all  the  worshipful  company  of  sleepers),  and  as 
a  climax,  Pompeiani  universi  (all  the  Pompeians,  to  a  man,  vote 
for  so   and  so).     One  of  these   recommendations,    purporting  to 
emanate  from  a  "  teacher  "  or  "  professor,"  runs,    Valentius  cum 
discentes  suos  (Valentius  with  his  disciples);  the  bad  grammar 
being  probably  intended  as  a  gibe  upon   one  of  the   poor   man's 
weak  points. 

The  inscriptions  in  chalk  and  coal,  the  graffiti^  and  occa- 


THE    GRAFFITI. 


45 


sionally  painted  inscriptions,  contain  sometimes  well-known  verses 
from  poets  still  extant.  Some  of  these  exhibit  variations  from 
the  modern  text,  but  being  written  by  not  very  highly  educated 
persons,  they  seldom  or  never  present  any  various  readings  that 
it  would  be  desirable  to  adopt,  and  indeed  contain  now  and  then 
prosodical  errors.  Other  verses,  some  of  them  by  no  means  con- 
temptible, are  either  taken  from  pieces  now  lost,  or  are  the  inven- 
tion of  the  writer  himself.  Many  of  these  inscriptions  are  of 
course  of  an  amatory  character ;  some  convey  intelligence  of  not 
much  importance  to  anybody  but  the  writer — as,  that  he  is 
troubled  with  a  cold — or  was  seventeen  centuries  ago — or  that  he 
considers  somebody  who  does  not  invite  him  to  supper  as  no 
better  than  a  brute  and  barbarian,  or  invokes  blessings  on  the  man 
that  does.  Some  are  capped  by  another  hand  with  a  biting  sar- 
casm on  the  tirst  writer,  and  many,  as  might  be  expected,  are 
scurrilous  and  indecent.  Some  of  the  graffiii  on  the  interior 
walls  and  pillars  of  houses  are  memoranda  of  domestic  trans- 
actions; as,  how  much  lard  was  bought,  how  many  tunics  sent 
to  the  wash,  when  a  child  or  a  donkey  was  born,  and  the  like. 
One  of  this  kind,  scratched  on  the  wall  of  the  peristyle  of  the 
corner  house  in  the  Strada  dell  a  Fortuna  and  Vicolo  de<rli 
Scienziati^  appears  to  be  an  account  of  the  dispensator  or  over- 
seer of  the  tasks  in  spinning  allotted  to  the  female  slaves  of  the 
establishment,  and  is  interesting  as  furnishing  us  with  their  names, 
which  are  Vitalis,  Florentina,  Amarullis,  Januaria,  Heracla,  Maria 
(M^ria,  feminine  of  Marius,  not  Mar/a),  Lalagia  (reminding  us 
of  Horace's  Lalage),  Damalis,  and  Doris.  The  fensum,  or 
weight  of  wool  delivered  to  each  to  be  spun,  is  spelled  pesu,  the  n 
and  hnal  m  being  omitted,  just  as  we  find  salve  liicru,  for  hicnmi^ 
written  on  the  threshold  of  the  house  of  Siricus.  In  this  form, 
pesii  is  very  close  to  the  Italian  word  peso. 

We  have  already  alluded  now  and  then  to  the  rude  etchings 
and  caricatures  of  these  wall-artists,  hxxt  to  enter   fully  into  the 


^6  STREET    OF    THE    LUPANAR. 

subject  of  the  Pompeian  inscriptions  and  graffiti  would  almost 
demand  a  separate  volume,  and  we  must  therefore  resume  the 
thread  of  our  description. 

A  little  beyond  the  house  of  Siricus,  a  small  street,  running 
down  at  right  angles  from  the  direction  of  the  Forum,  enters  the 
Via  del  Lupanare.  Just  at  their  junction,  and  having  an  en- 
trance into  both,  stands  the  Lupanar,  from  which  the  latter  street 
derives  its  name.  We  can  not  venture  upon  a  description  of  this 
resort  of  Pagan  immorality.  It  is  kept  locked  up,  but  the  guide 
will  procure  the  key  for  those  who  may  wish  to  see  it.  Next  to 
it  is  the  House  of  the  Fuller,  in  which  was  found  the  elegant 
little  bronze  statuette  of  Narcissus,  now  in  the  Museum.  The 
house  contained  nothing  else  of  interest. 

The  Via  del  Lupanare  terminates  in  the  Street  of  the 
Augustals,  or  of  the  Dried  Fruits.  In  this  latter  street,  nearly 
opposite  the  end  of  the  Via  del  Lupanare,  but  a  little  to  the  left, 
is  the  House  of  Narcissus,  or  of  the  Mosaic  Fountain.  This 
house  is  one  of  recent  excavation.  At  the  threshold  is  a  Mosaic 
of  a  bear,  with  the  word  Have.  The  prothyrum  is  painted  with 
figures  on  a  yellow  ground.  On  the  left  is  a  medallion  of  a 
satyr  and  nymph;  the  opposite  medallion  is  destroyed. 

The  atrium  is  paved  with  mosaic.  The  first  room  on  the 
right-hand  side  of  it  has  a  picture  of  Narcissus  admiring  him- 
self in  the  water.  The  opposite  picture  has  a  female  figure 
seated,  with  a  child  in  her  arms,  and  a  large  chest  open  before 
her.  The  tablinum  is  handsomely  paved  with  mosaic  and  marble. 
Behind  this,  in  place  of  a  peristyle,  is  a  court  or  garden,  the  wall 
of  which  is  painted  with  a  figure  bearing  a  basin.  At  the  bot- 
tom is  a  handsome  mosaic  fountain,  from  which  the  house  derives 
one  of  its  names,  with  a  figure  of  Neptune  surrounded  by  fishes 
and  sea-fowl ;  above  are  depicted  large  wild  boars. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  way,  at  the  eastern  angle  of  the 
Street  of  the  Lupanar,  is  the  House  of  the  Rudder  and  Trident, 


EIGHTY    LOAVES    OF    BREAD    FOUND. 


47 


also  called  the  House  of  Mars  and  Venus.  The  first  of  these 
names  is  derived  from  the  mosaic  pavement  in  the  prothyrum, 
in  which  the  objects  mentioned  are  represented;  while  a  medal- 
lion picture  in  the  atrium,  with  heads  of  Mars  and  Venus,  gave 
rise  to  the  second  appellation.  The  colors  of  this  picture  are 
still  quite  fresh,  a  result  which  Signor  Fiorelli  attributes  to  his 
having  caused  a  varnish  of  wax  to  be  laid  over  the  painting  at 
the  time  of  its  discovery.  Without  some  such  protection  the 
colors  of  these  pictures  soon  decay;  the  cinnabar,  or  vermilion, 
especially,  turns  black  after  a  few  days'  exposure  to  the  light. 

The  atrium,  as  usual,  is  surrounded  with  bed-chambers.  A 
peculiarity  not  yet  found  in  any  other  house  is  a  niche  or  closet 
on  the  left  of  the  atrium,  having  on  one  side  an  opening  only  large 
enough  to  introduce  the  hand,  whence  it  has  been  conjectured 
that  it  served  as  a  receptacle  for  some  valuable  objects.  It  is 
painted  inside  with  a  wall  of  quadrangular  pieces  of  marble  of 
various  colors,  terminated  at  top  with  a  cornice.  In  each  of  the 
squares  is  a  fish,  bird,  or  quadruped. 

This  closet  or  niche  stands  at  a  door  of  the  room  in  which  is 
an  entrance  to  a  subterranean  passage,  having  its  exit  in  the  Via 
del  Lupanare.  There  is  nothing  very  remarkable  in  the  other 
apartments  of  this  house.  Behind  is  a  peristyle  with  twelve 
columns,  in  the  garden  of  which  shrubs  are  said  to  have  been  dis- 
covered in  a  carbonized  state. 

Further  down  the  same  Street  of  the  Auorustals,  at  the  ans^le 
which  it  forms  with  the  Street  of  Stabise,  is  the  house  oif  a  baker, 
having  on  the  external  wall  the  name  Modestum  in  red  letters. 
For  a  tradesman  it  seems  to  have  been  a  comfortable  house, 
having  an  atrium  and  fountain,  and  some  painted  chambers.  Be- 
yond the  atrium  is  a  spacious  court  with  mills  and  an  oven.  The 
oven  was  charged  with  more  than  eighty  loaves,  the  forms  of 
which  are  still  perfect,  though  they  are  reduced  to  a  carbona 
ceous  state.     They  are  preserved  in  the  Museum. 


4.8  THE    HOUSE    OF    THE    BALCONY. 

The  narrow  street  to  which  we  have  alluded,  as  entering  the 
Via  del  Lupanare  nearly  opposite  to  the  house  of  Siricus,  has  been 
called  the  Via  del  Balcone,  from  a  small  house  with  a  projecting 
balcony  or  maenianum.  Indications  of  balconies  have  been  found 
elsewhere,  and  indeed  there  were  evidently  some  in  the  Via  del 
Lupanare  ;  but  this  is  the  only  instance  of  one  restored  to  its 
pristine  state,  through  the  care  of  Signor  Fiorelli  in  substituting 
fresh  timbers  for  those  which  had  become  carbonized.  The  vis- 
itor may  ascend  to  the  first  floor  of  this  house,  from  which  the 
balcony  projects  several  feet  into  the  narrow  lane.  In  the  atrium 
of  this  house  is  a  very  pretty  fountain. 

The  house  next  to  that  of  the  Balcony,  facing  the  entrance 
of  a  small  street  leading  from  the  Via  dell  Abbondanza,  and  num- 
bered 7  on  the  door  post,  has  a  few  pictures  in  a  tolerable  state 
of  preservation.  In  a  painting  in  the  furthest  room  on  the  left  of 
the  atrium  Theseus  is  seen  departing  in  his  ship;  Ariadne,  roused 
from  sleep,  gazes  on  him  with  despair,  while  a  little  weeping 
Cupid  stands  by  her  side.  In  the  same  apartment  are  two  other 
well-preserved  pictures,  the  subjects  of  which  it  is  not  easy  to  ex- 
plain. In  one  is  a  female  displaying  to  a  man  two  little  figures 
in  a  nest,  representing  apparently  the  birth  of  the  Dioscuri.  The 
other  is  sometimes  called  the  Rape  of  Helen.  There  are  also 
several  medallion  heads  around. 

In  the  small  street  which  runs  parallel  with  the  eastern  side 
of  the  Forum,  called  the  Vico  di  Eumachia,  is  a  house  named 
the  Casa  nuova  della  Caccia^  to  distinguish  it  from  one  of  the 
same  name  previously  discovered.  As  in  the  former  instance,  its 
appellation  is  derived  from  a  large  painting  on  the  wall  of  the 
peristyle,  of  bears,  lions,  and  other  animals.  On  the  right-hand 
wall  of  the  tablinum  is  a  picture  of  Bacchus  discovering  Ariadne. 
A  satyr  lifts  her  vest,  while  Silenus  and  other  figures  look  on  in 
admiration.  The  painting  on  the  left-hand  wall  is  destro3xd. 
On  entering  the  peristyle  a  door  on  the  right  leads  down  some 


HUMAN    BODIES    PRESERVED.  49 

steps  into  a  garden,  on  one  side  of  which  is  a  small  altar  belbi  t'  a 
wall,  on  which  is  a  painting  of  shrubs. 

Proceeding  from  this  street  into  the  Vico  Storto,  which 
forms  a  continuation  of  it  on  the  north,  we  find  on  the  right  a 
recently  excavated  house,  which,  from  several  slabs  of  variously 
colored  marbles  found  in  it,  has  been  called  the  House  of  the 
Dealer  in  Marbles.  Under  a  large  court  in  the  interior,  sur- 
rounded with  Doric  columns,  are  some  subterranean  apartments, 
in  one  of  which  was  discovered  a  well  more  than  eighty  feet  deep 
and  still  supplied  with  fresh  water ;  almost  the  only  instance  of 
the  kind  at  Pompeii.  The  beautiful  statuette  of  Silenus,  already 
described,  was  found  in  this  house.  Here  also  was  made  the  rare 
discovery  of  the  skeletons  of  two  horses,  with  the  remains  of  a 
biga. 

This  description  might  be  extended,  but  it  would  be  tedious 
to  repeat  details  of  smaller  and  less  interesting  houses,  the  fea- 
tures of  which  present  in  general  much  uniformity ;  and  we  •  :iali 
therefore  conclude  this  account  of  the  more  recent  discoveries 
with  a  notice  of  a  group  of  bodies  found  in  this  neighborhood,  the 
forms  of  which  have  been  preserved  to  us  through  the  ingenuity 
of  Signor  Fiorelli. 

It  has  already  been  remarked  that  the  showers  of  lapi/Io^  or 
pumice  stone,  by  which  Pompeii  was  overwhelmed  and  buried, 
were  followed  by  streams  of  a  thick,  tenacious  mud,  which  flow- 
ing over  the  deposit  of  lapillo^  and  filling  up  all  the  crannies  and 
interstices  into  which  that  substance  had  not  been  able  to  pene- 
trate, completed  the  destruction  of  the  city.  The  objects  over 
which  this  mud  flowed  were  enveloped  in  it  as  in  a  plaster  mould, 
and  where  these  objects  happened  to  be  human  bodies,  their 
decay  left  a  cavity  in  which  their  forms  were  as  accurately  pre- 
served and  rendered  as  in  the  mould  prepared  for  the  casting  of 
a  bronze  statue.  Such  cavities  had  often  been  observed.  In 
some  of  them   remnants   of   charred   wood,    acconioinied   with 

4 


5^ 


DISCOVERED    BODIES. 


bronze  or  other  ornaments,  snowed  that  the  object  inclosed  had 
been  a  piece  of  furniture  ;  while  in  others,  the  remains  of  bones 
and  of  articles  of  apparel  evinced  but  too  plainly  that  the  hollow 
had  been  the  living  grave  which  had  swallowed  up  some  unfor- 
tunate human  being.  In  a  happy  moment  the  idea  occurred  to 
Signor  Fiorelli  of  filling  up  these  cavities  with  liquid  plaster,  and 
thus  obtaining  a  cast  of  the  objects  which  had  been  inclosed  in 
them.  The  experiment  was  first  made  in  a  small  street  leading 
from  the  Via  del  Balcone  Pensile  towards  the  Forum.  The 
bodies  here  found  were  on  the  lapillo  at  a  height  of  about  fifteen 
feet  from  the  level  of  the  ground. 

'*  Among  the  first  casts  thus  obtained  were  those  of  four 
human  beings.  They  are  now  preserved  in  a  room  at  Pompeii, 
and  more  ghastly  and  painful,  yet  deeply  interesting  and  touch- 
ing objects,  it  is  difficult  to  conceive.  We  have  death  itself 
moulded  and  cast — the  very  last  struggle  and  final  agony  brought 
before  us.  They  tell  their  story  with  a  horrible  dramatic  truth 
that  no  sculptor  could  ever  reach.  They  would  have  furnished 
a  thrilling  episode  to  the  accomplished  author  of  the  '  Last  Days 
of  Pompeii.' 

"  These  four  persons  had  perished  in  a  street.  They  had 
remained  within  the  shelter  of  their  homes  until  the  thick  black 
mud  began  to  creep  through  every  cranny  and  chink.  Driven 
from  their  retreat  they  began  to  flee  when  it  was  too  late.  The 
streets  were  already  buried  deep  in  the  loose  pumice  stones  which 
had  been  falling  for  many  hours  in  unremitting  showers,  and 
which  reached  almost  to  the  windows  of  the  first  floor.  These 
victims  of  the  eruption  were  not  found  together,  and  they  do  not 
appear  to  have  belonged  to  the  same  family  or  household.  The 
most  interesting  of  the  casts  is  that  of  two  women,  probably 
mother  and  daughter,  lying  feet  to  feet.  They  appear  from  their 
garb  lo  have  been  people  of  poor  condition.  The  elder  seems  to 
lie  tranquilly  on  her  side.     Overcome  by  the  noxious  jx-'ises,  she 


DISCOVERED    BODIES. 


51 


probably  fell  and  died  without  a   struggle.     Her   limbs   are  ex- 


tended, and  her  left  arm  drops  loosely.      On  one  linger  is   still 
seen  her  coarse  iron  ring.     Her  child  was  a  girl  of  filteen:  she 


52  DISCOVERED     BODIES. 

seems,  poor  thing,  to  have  struggled  hard  for  Hfe.  Her  legs  are 
drawn  up  convulsively;  her  little  hands  are  clenched  in  agony. 
In  one  she  holds  her  veil,  or  a  part  of  her  dress,  with  which  she 
had  covered  her  head,  burying  her  face  in  her  arm,  to  shield  her- 
self from  the  falling  ashes  and  from  the  foul  sulphurous  smoke. 
The  form  of  her  head  is  perfectly  preserved.  The  texture  of  her 
coarse  linen  garments  may  be  traced,  and  even  the  fashion  of  her 
dress,  with  its  long  sleeves  reaching  to  her  wrists ;  here  and  there 
it  is  torn,  and  the  smooth  young  skin  appears  in  the  plaster  like 
polished  marble.  On  her  tiny  feet  ma}^  still  be  seen  her  em- 
broidered sandals. 

"  At  some  distance  from  this  group  lay  a  third  woman.  She 
appears  to  have  been  about  twenty-five  years  of  age,  and  to  have 
belonged  to  a  better  class  than  the  other  two.  On  one  of  her 
fingers  were  two  silver  rings,  and  her  garments  were  of  a  finer 
texture.  Her  linen  head-dress,  falling  over  her  shoulders  like 
that  of  a  matron  in  a  Roman  statue,  can  still  be  distinguished. 
She  had  fallen  on  her  side,  overcome  by  the  heat  and  gases,  but 
a  terrible  struggle  seems  to  have  preceded  her  last  agony.  One 
arm  is  raised  in  despair;  the  hands  are  clenched  convulsively; 
her  garments  are  gathered  up  on  one  side,  leaving  exposed  a 
lirhb  of  beautiful  shape.  So  perfect  a  mould  of  it  has  been 
formed  by  the  soft  and  yielding  mud,  that  the  cast  would  seem  to 
be  taken  from  an  exquisite  work  of  Greek  art.  She  had  fled 
with  her  little  treasure,  which  lay  scr  tered  around  her — two 
silver  cups,  a  few  jewels,  and  some  dozen  silver  coins ;  nor  had 
she,  like  a  good  housewife,  forgotten  her  keys,  after  having  prob- 
ably locked  up  her  stores  before  seeking  to  escape.  The}'  were 
found  by  her  side. 

"  The  fourth  cast  is  that  of  a  man  of  the  people,  perhaps  a 
common  soldier.  As  may  be  seen  in  the  cut,  he  is  of  almost  col- 
ossal size ;  he  lies  on  his  left  arm  extended  by  his  side,  and  his 
head  rests  on  his  right  hand,  and  his  legs  drawn  up  as  if,  finding 


DISCOVERED     BODIES. 


53 


escape  impossible,  he  had  laid  himself  down  to  meet  death  like  a 
brave  man.  His  dress  consists  of  a  short  coat  or  jerkin  and 
tight-titting  breeches  of  some  coarse  stuff,  perhaps  leather.  On 
one  linger  is  seen  his  iron  ring.  His  features  are  strongly  marked 
the  mouth  open,  as  in  death.  Some  of  the  teeth  still  remain,  and 
even  part  of  the  moustache  adheres  to  the  plaster. 

"  The  importance  of  Signer  Fiorelli's  discovery  may  be  un- 
derstood from  the  results  we  have  described.  It  may  furnish  us 
with  many  curious  particulars  as  to  the  dress  and  domestic  habits 
of  the  Romans,  and  with  many  an  interesting  episode  of  the  last 
day  of  Pompeii.  Had  it  been  made  at  an  earlier  period  we  might 
perhaps  have  possessed  the  perfect  cast  of  the  Diomedes,  as  they 
clung  together  in  their  last  struggle,  and  of  other  victims  whose 
remains  are  now  mingled  together  in  the  bone-house." 


]40U3E    OF    PlOJVlEDE^. 


This  house,  the  most  interesting,  and  by  far  the  most  ex- 
tensive of  the  private  buildings  yet  discovered,  is  the  Suburban 
Villa,  as  it  is  called,  from  its  position  a  little  w^ay  w^ithout  the 
gates,  in  the  Street  of  the  Tombs,  which  led  to,  or  formed  part 
of,  the  suburb  called  Augustus  Felix.  It  is  worthy  of  remark 
that  the  plan  of  this  edifice  is  in  close  accord  with  the  descriptions 
of  country  houses  given  us  by  Vitruvius  and  others — a  circum- 
stance which  tends  strongly  to  confirm  the  belief  already  ex- 
pressed, that  the  houses  of  the  city  are  built  upon  the  Roman 
system  of  arrangement,  although  the  Greek  taste  may  predomi- 
nate in  their  decoration.  We  will  commence  by  extracting  the 
most  important  pa^  ,  iges  in  Pliny  the  Younger's  description  of  his 
Laurentine  villa,  that  the  reader  may  have  some  general  notion 
of  the  subject,  some  standai"d  with  which  to  compare  that  which 
we  are  about  to  describe. 

"  My  villa  is  large  enough  for  convenience,  though  not  splen- 
did. Tlic  first  apartment  which  presents  itself  is  a  plain,  yet  not 
mean,  atrium;  then  comes  a  portico,  in  shape  like  the  letter  O, 
which  surrounds  a  small,  but  pleasant  area.  This  is  an  excellent 
retreat  in  bad  weather,  being  sheltered  by  glazed  windows,  and 
still  more  effectually  by  an  overhanging  roof.  Opposite  the  cen- 
tre of  this  portico  is  a  pleasant  cav^edium,  after  which  comes  a 
handsome  triclinium,  which  projects  upon  the  beach,  so  that  when 
the  southwest  wind  urges  the  sea,  the  last  broken  waves  just  dash 

54 


HOUSE    OF    DIOMEDES.  55 

against  its  walls.  On  every  side  of  this  room  are  folding  doors, 
or  windows  equally  large,  so  that  from  the  three  sides  there  is  a 
view,  as  it  were,  of  three  seas  at  once,  while  backwards  the  eye 
wanders  through  the  apartments  already  described,  the  cavsedium, 
portico,  and  atrium,  to  woods  and  distant  mountains.  To  the 
left  are  several  apartments,  including  a  bed-chamber,  and  room 
fitted  up  as  a  library,  which  jets  out  in  an  elliptic  form,  and,  by 
its  several  windows,  admits  the  sun  during  its  whole  course. 
These  apartments  I  make  my  winter  abode.  The  rest  of  this  side 
of  the  house  is  allotted  to  my  slaves  and  freedmen,  yet  it  is  for 
the  most  part  neat  enough  to  receive  my  friends.  To  the  right 
of  the  triclinium  is  a  very  elegant  chamber,  and  another,  which 
you  may  call  either  a  very  large  chamber  {cubiculum)^  or  mod- 
erate-sized eating-room  {coenatio)^  which  commands  a  full  pros- 
pect both  of  the  sun  and  sea.  Passing  hence,  through  three  or 
four  other  chambers,  you  enter  the  cella  frigidaria  of  the  baths, 
in  which  there  are  two  basins  projecting  from  opposite  walls, 
abundantly  large  enough  to  swim  in,  if  you  feel  inclined  to  do  so 
in  the  first  instance.  Then  come  the  anointing-room,  the  hypo- 
caust,  or  furnace,  and  two  small  rooms;  next  the  warm  bath, 
which  commands  an  admirable  view  of  the  sea.  Not  far  off*  is 
the  s-pho^risterium^  a  room  devoted  to  in-door  exercises  and 
games,  exposed  to  the  hottest  sun  of  the  declining  day.  Beside 
it  is  a  triclinium,  where  the  noise  of  the  sea  is  never  heard  but  in 
a  storm,  and  then  faintly,  looking  out  upon  the  garden  and  the 
gestatio,  or  place  for  taking  the  air  in  a  carriage  or  litter,  which 
encompasses  it.  The  gestatio  is  hedged  with  box,  and  with  rose- 
mary where  the  box  is  wanting ;  for  box  grows  well  where  it  is 
sheltered  by  buildings,  but  withers  when  exposed  in  an  open  sit- 
uation to  the  wind,  and  especially  within  reach  of  spray  trom  the 
sea.  To  the  inner  circle  of  the  gestatio  is  joined  a  shady  walk 
of  vines,  soft  and  tender  even  to  the  naked  feet.  The  garden  is 
full  of  mulberries  and  figs,  the  soil  being  especially  suited  to  the 


^6  LOCATION    OF    THE    VILLA. 

former.  Within  the  circuit  of  the  gestatio  there  is  also  a  crypto- 
portico,  for  extent  comparable  to  public  buildings,  having  win- 
dows on  one  side  looking  to  the  sea,  on  the  other  to  the  garden. 
In  front  of  it  is  a  xystus,  fragrant  with  violets,  where  the  sun's 
heat  is  increased  by  reflection  from  the  crypt oportico,  which,  at 
the  same  time,  breaks  the  northeast  wind.  At  either  end  of  it 
is  a  suite  of  apartments,  in  which,  in  truth,  I  place  my  chief 
delight."*  Such  was  one  of  several  villas  described  by  Pliny. 
The  directions  given  by  Vitruvius  for  building  country  houses 
are  very  short.  "  The  same  principles,"  he  says,  "  are  to  be 
observed  in  country  houses  as  in  town  houses,  except  that  in  the 
latter  the  atrium  lies  next  to  the  door,  but  in  pseudo-urban  houses 
the  peristyles  come  first,  then  atria  surrounded  by  paved  por- 
ticoes, looking  upon  courts  for  gymnastic  exercises  and  walking  " 
{^aloestras  et  ambulationes).^  It  will  appear  that  the  distribu- 
tion of  the  Suburban  Villa  was  entirely  in  accordance  with  these 
rules. 

The  house  is  built  upon  the  side  of  the  hill,  in  such  a  manner 
that  the  ground  falls  away,  not  only  in  the  line  of  the  street, 
across  the  breadth  of  the  house,  but  also  from  the  front  to  the 
back,  so  that  the  doorway  itself  being  elevated  from  five  to  six 
feet  above  the  roadway,  there  is  room  at  the  back  of  the  house 
for  an  extensive  and  magnificent  suite  of  rooms  between  the  level 
of  the  peristyle  and  the  surface  of  the  earth.  These  two  levels 
are  represented  on  the  same  plan,  being  distinguished  by  a  dif- 
ference in  the  shading.  The  darker  parts  show  the  walls  of  the 
upper  floor,  the  lighter  ones  indicate  the  distribution  of  the  lower. 
A  further  distinction  is  made  in  the  references,  which  are  b}'  fig- 
ures to  the  upper  floor,  and  by  letters  to  the  lower.  There  are 
besides  subterraneous  vaults  and  galleries  not  expressed  in  the 
plan. 

*  Plin.  Ep.  lib.  ii.  17.  We  have  very  much  shortened  the  original,  leaving  out  the 
description  of,  at  least,  one  upper  floor,  and  other  particulars  which  did  not  appear 
necessary  to  the  illustration  of  our  subject. 

f  Vitruvius,  "n.  8. 


GROUND    PLAN    OF    THE    VILLA.  57 

I.   Broad  foot  pavement  raised  nine   inches  or  a  foot  above 
*      the  carria(2:c  way,  running  along  the  whole   length  of  the  Street 


GROUND  PLAN  OF  THE  8UBUKBAN  VILLA  OF  DIOMEDE8. 

of  Tombs.  2.  Inclined  planes,  leading  up  to  the  porch  on  each 
side.  3.  Entrance.  4.  Peristyle.  This  arrangement  corresponds 
exactly  with  the  directions  of  Vitruvius  for  the  building  of  coun- 


gS  DETAIL  OP^  GROUND  PLAN. 

try  houses  just  quoted.  The  order  of  the  peristyle  is  extremely 
eleo-ant.  The  columns,  their  capitals,  and  entablatures,  and  the 
paintings  on  the  walls  are  still  in  good  preservation.  The  archi- 
tectural decorations  are  worked  in  stucco;  and  it  is  observed  by 
Mazois  that  both  here  and  in  other  instances  the  artist  has  taken 
liberties,  which  he  would  not  have  indulged  in  had  he  been  work- 
ing in  more  valuable  materials.  On  this  ground  that  eminent 
architect  hazards  a  conjecture  that  the  plasterer  had  a  distinct 
style  ot'  ornamenting,  different  from  that  of  architects,  or  of  the 
masons  in  their  employ.  The  lower  third  of  the  columns,  which 
is  not  fluted,  is  painted  red.  The  pavement  was  formed  of  opus 
Sioiiiuiim.  5.  Uncovered  court  with  an  impluvium,  which  col- 
lected the  rain  water  and  fed  a  cistern,  whence  the  common  house- 
hold wants  were  supplied.  6.  Descending  staircase,  which  led 
to  a  court  and  building  on  a  lower  level,  appropriated  to  the 
offices,  as  the  kitchen,  bakehouse,  etc.,  and  to  the  use  of  slaves. 
It  will  be  recollected  that  the  ground  slopes  with  a  rapid  descent 
away  from  the  city  gate.  This  lower  story,  therefore,  was  not 
under  ground,  though  near  eight  feet  below  the  level  of  the  peri- 
style. It  communicates  with  the  road  by  a  back  door.  From 
the  bottom  of  the  stair  there  runs  a  long  corridor,  A,  somewhat 
indistinct  in  our  small  plan,  owing  to  its  being  crossed  several 
times  by  the  lines  of  the  upper  floor,  which  leads  down  by  a  gen- 
tle slope  to  the  portico  surrounding  the  garden.  This  was  the 
back  stair,  as  we  should  call  it,  by  which  the  servants  communi- 
cated with  that  part  of  the  house.  There  was  another  staircase,  , 
B,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  house,  for  the  use  of  the  family.  7. 
Door  and  passage  to  the  upper  garden,  marked  17,  on  the  same 
level  as  the  court.  8.  Open  hall,  corresponding  in  position  with 
a  tablinum.  Being  thus  placed  between  the  court  and  the  gal- 
Ipry,  28,  it  must  have  been  closed  with  folding  doors  of  wood, 
which  perhaps  were  glazed.  9,  10,  11,  12.  Various  rooms  con- 
taining  nothing   remarkable.       13.   Two   rooms  situated   in   the 


DETAIL  OF  GROUND  PLAN.  59 

most  agreeable  manner  at  the  two  ends  of  a  long  gallery,  28,  and 
looking  out  upon  the  upper  terraces  of  the  garden,  from  which 
the  eye  took  in  the  whole  gulf  of  Naples  to  the  point  of  Sorrento, 
and  the  island  of  Caprege.  14.  Procaeton,  or  antechamber.  15. 
Lodge  of  the  cubicular  slave,  or  attendant  upon  the  bed-room. 
16.  Bed-room,  probably  that  of  the  master,  or  else  the  state- 
chamber,  h.  Alcove.  Several  rings  were  found  here  which  had 
evidently  belonged  to  a  curtain  to  draw  across  the  front  of  it. 
c.  Hollow  stand  or  counter  of  masonry,  probably  coated  with 
stucco  or  marble,  which  served  for  a  toilet-table.  Several  vases 
were  found  there,  which  must  have  contained  perfumes  or  cos- 
metic oils.  The  form  of  this  bed-room  is  very  remarkable,  and 
will  not  fail  to  strike  the  reader  from  its  exact  correspondence 
with  the  elliptic  chamber  or  library  described  by  Pliny  in  his 
Laurentine  villa.  The  windows  in  the  semi-circular  end  are  so 
placed  that  they  receive  the  rising,  noontide,  and  setting  sun. 
BulPs  eyes,  placed  above  the  windows,  permitted  them  to  be 
altogether  closed  without  darkening  the  room  entirely.  These 
windows  opened  on  a  garden,  where,  in  Mazois'  time,  the  care  of 
the  guardian  had  planted  roses,  which  almost  beguiled  him  into 
the  belief  that  he  had  found  the  genuine  produce  of  a  Pompeian 
garden.  This  must  have  been  a  delightful  room,  from  its  ample 
size,  elegance  of  ornament,  and  the  quiet  cheerful  retirement  of 
its  situation. 

17.  Upper  garden  upon  the  level  of  the  court. 

18.  Entrance  to  the  baths,  which,  though  originally  rare  in 
private  houses,  had  become  so  common,  long  before  the  destruc- 
tion of  Pompeii,  that  few  wealthy  persons  were  without  them. 
The  word  balneum  was  peculiarly  applied  to  domestic,  thei'mce 
to  public  baths.  This  specimen,  which  fortunately  was  almost 
perfect,  small  as  it  is,  suffices  to  give  an  idea  of  the  arrangement 
of  private  baths  among  the  Romans.  19.  Portico  upon  two  sides 
of  a  small  triangular  court.     There  is  as  much  skill  in  the  dispo- 


6o  DETAIL  OF  GROUND  PLAN. 

sition.  as  taste  in  the  decoration,  of  this  court,  which  presents  a 
symmetrical  plan,  notwithstanding  the  irregular  form  of  the  space 
allotted  to  it.  Its  situation  is  conformable  to  the  advice  of  Vitru- 
vius;  and  as  it  could  not  front  the  west,  it  has  been  placed  to  the 
south.  The  columns  of  the  portico  are  octagonal.  At  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  gallery,  on  the  left  of  the  entrance,  there  is  a  small 
furnace  where  was  prepared  some  warm  beverage  or  restorative 
for  the  use  of  the  bathers,  who  were  accustomed  to  take  wine  or 
cordials  before  they  went  away.  Here  a  gridiron  and  two  fr3nng 
pans  were  found,  still  blackened  with  smoke.  In  the  centre  of 
the  base,  or  third  side  of  the  court,  is  placed  a  bath,  20,  about 
six  feet  square,  lined  with  stucco,  the  edge  of  which  is  faced  with 
marble.  It  was  covered  with  a  roof,  the  mark  of  which  is  still 
visible  on  the  walls,  supported  by  two  pillars  placed  on  the  pro- 
jecting angles.  The  holes  in  the  walls  to  admit  the  three  princi- 
pal beams  are  so  contrived  that  each  side  is  lined  with  a  single 
brick.  Under  this  covering  the  whole  wall  was  painted  to  repre- 
sent water,  with  tish  and  other  aquatic  animals  swimming  about. 
The  water  was  blue,  and  rather  deep  in  color:  the  fish  were 
represented  in  the  most  vivid  and  varied  tints.  Some  years  ago 
this  painting  recovered,  on  being  wetted,  the  original  freshness 
and  brilliancy  of  its  coloring;  but  exposure  to  the  weather  has 
done  its  work,  and  now  scarce  a  trace  of  it  remains.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  it  there  is  a  circular  broken  space  to  which  a  mask  was 
formerly  attached,  through  which  a  stream  gushed  into  the  basin 
below.  Two  or  three  steps  led  down  to  this  baptisterium^  where 
the  cold  bath  was  taken  in  the  open  air.  This  court  and  portico 
were  paved  in  mosaic.  21.  Apodyterium.  22.  Frigidarium. 
23.  Tepidarium.  These  two  rooms,  in  neither  of  which  was 
there  a  bathing  vessel,  show  that  frequently  rooms  thus  named 
were  not  intended  for  bathing,  but  simply  to  preserve  two  inter- 
mediate gradations  of  temperature,  between  the  burning  heat  of 
the  caldarium  or  laconicum  and  the  open  air.     In  fact,  no  trace 


THE    CALDARIUM.  6 1 

of  any  contrivance  for  the  introduction  or  reception  of  water  has 
been  found  in  No.  22.  It  was  simply  a  cold  chamber,  cella  frigi- 
daria.  Nor  was  the  little  chamber,  23,  large  enough  to  receive 
conveniently  a  bathing  vessel  ;  but  seats  of  wood  were  found 
there  for  the  convenience  of  those  who  had  quitted  the  bath,  and 
who  came  there  to  undergo  the  discipline  of  the  strigil,  and  a 
minute  process  of  purification  and  anointing.  This  room  is  not 
above  twelve  feet  by  six :  the  bath,  therefore,  could  not  have  been 
calculated  for  the  reception  of  more  than  one,  or,  at  most,  of  two 
persons  at  once.  Here  the  great  question  relative  to  the  use  of 
glass  windows  by  the  ancients  was  finally  settled.  This  apart- 
ment was  lighted  by  a  window  closed  by  a  movable  frame  of 
wood,  which,  though  converted  into  charcoal,  still  held,  when  it 
was  found,  four  panes  of  glass  about  six  inches  square.  A  more 
elaborate  and  curious  glass  window  was  found  at  a  later  period 
in  the  public  baths.  24.  Caldarium.  It  might,  however,  be  em- 
ployed at  pleasure  as  a  tepid  or  cold  bath,  when  the  weather  was 
too  cold  for  bathing  in  the  open  air.  The  suspensura  caldari- 
orum,  as  Vitruvius  calls  the  hollow  walls  and  floors  raised  upon 
pillars,  are  in  remarkably  good  preservation.  By  means  of  these 
the  whole  apartment  was  entirely  enveloped  in  flame,  and  might 
be  easily  raised  to  a  most  stifling  temperature. 

We  will,  however,  add  that  Vitruvius  directs  a  bed  of  clay 
mixed  with  hair  to  be  laid  between  the  pillars  and  the  pavement; 
and  some  tradition  of  this  custom  may  be  imagined  to  subsist,  for 
the  potters  of  the  country,  in  some  cases,  work  up  wool  with  their 
clay,  a  practice  unknown  elsewhere,  as  we  believe,  in  the  art  of 
pottery.  The  burning  vapor  passed  out  above  the  ceiling,  gain- 
ing no  entrance  into  the  apartment.  Air  and  light  were  admit- 
ted by  two  windows,  one  higher  than  the  other.  In  one  of  these 
Mazois  found  a  fragment  of  glass.  The  bathing- vessel,  e,  lined 
with  stucco,  and  coated  on  the  outside  with  marble,  was  fed  by 
two  cocks,  which  must  have  been  very  small,  to  judge  from  the 


62  DETAIL  OF  GROUND  PLAN. 

space  which  they  occupied.  Hence,  hot  and  cold  water  were 
supplied  at  pleasure;  and  it  was  only  to  fill  the  vessel  with  boil- 
ing water,  and  the  whole  apartment  would  be  converted  into  one 
great  vapor  bath. 

As  it  would  have  been  difficult  or  impossible  to  have  kept 
alive  a  lamp  or  torch  in  so  dense  a  steam,  there  is  near  the  door 
a  circular  hole,  closed  formerly  by  a  glass,  which  served  to  admit 
the  light  of  a  lamp  placed  in  the  adjoining  chamber.  The  hypo- 
caust,  or  furnace  and  apparatus,  25,  for  heating  the  water,  are  so 
placed  that  they  can  not  be  seen  from  the  triangular  court.  They 
are  small,  but  correspond  with  the  small  quantity  of  boiling  water 
which  they  were  required  to  furnish.  /.  Stone  table,  o-.  Cis- 
tern. //.  Mouth  of  hypocaust.  /.  A  furnace,  probably  for  boil- 
ing water  when  merely  a  tepid  bath  was  required,  without  heating 
the  suspensura  caldariorum.  By  the  side  of  the  hypocaust  were 
placed  the  vases  for  hot  and  cold  water,  as  described  in  the  chap- 
ter on  Baths;  their  pedestals  were  observable  between  the  mouth 
of  the  furnace  and  the  letter  k.  I.  Wooden  staircase,  no  longer 
in  existence,  which  led  to  the  apartments  above.      26.   Reservoir. 

Such  was  the  distribution  of  this  bath.  Some  paintings  and 
mosaics,  which  are  ordinary  enough,  formed  its  only  decorations; 
yet,  from  the  little  that  remains,  we  can  discover  that  the  good 
taste  which  reigned  everywhere,  and  the  freshness  of  the  colors, 
must  have  rendered  the  effect  of  the  whole  most  agreeable. 

27.  This  chamber  seems  to  have  been  used  as  a  wardrobe, 
where  the  numerous  garments  of  the  opulent  masters  of  this  dwell- 
ing were  kept  under  presses,  to  give  them  a  lustre.  This  con- 
jecture is  founded  upon  the  remains  of  calcined  stuffs,  and  the 
fragments  of  wardrobes  and  carbonized  plank  found  in  th.e  course 
of  excavation. 

28.  Great  gallery,  lighted  by  windows  which  looked  upon 
the  two  terraces,  34,  separated  by  the  large  hall,  t^t^.     ^J'his  gal- 


GALLERIES    AND    HALLS.  6;^ 

lery  furnished  an  agreeable  promenade,  when  the  weather  did  not 
permit  the  enjoyment  of  the  external  porticoes  or  terraces. 

29,  29.  These  two  small  apartmen  .s,  which  were  open  to  the 
gallery,  and  probably  were  closed  by  glass,  may  very  .veil  have 
been,  one  a  library,  the  other  a  reading-room,  since  the  place  in 
which  books  were  kept  was  not  usually  the  place  in  which  they 
were  read;  being  small  and  conlined,  suitable  to  the  compara- 
tively small  number  of  volumes  which  an  ancient  library  generally 
contained,  and  also  to  the  limited  space  within  which  a  consider- 
able number  of  rolls  of  papyrus  might  be  placed. 

A  bust,  painted  on  the  wall  of  one  of  them,  contirms  this 
supposition,  for  it  is  known  that  the  ancients  were  fond  of  keep- 
ing the  portraits  of  eminent  men  before  their  eyes,  and  especially 
of  placing  those  of  literary  men  in  their  libraries. 

30.  The  form  of  this  hall  is  suitable  to  a  triclinium,  and  its 
situation,  protected  from  the  immediate  action  of  the  sun's  rays, 
would  seem  to  mark  it  as  a  summer  triclinium.      Still  the   o^uests 

o 

enjoyed  the  view  of  the  country  and  of  the  sea,  by  means  of  a 
door  opening  upon  the  terrace.  In  front  of  the  little  chamber,  31, 
is  a  square  opening  for  the  staircase,  which  descends  to  the  point 
B  upon  the  floor  below.  It  is  to  be  remarked,  that  at  the  en- 
trance of  each  division  of  the  building^  there  is  a  lodsre  for  a  slave. 
No  doubt  each  suite  of  rooms  had  its  peculiar  keeper.  The 
chamber,  10,  seems  to  have  been  reserved  for  the  keeper  of  the 
peristyle;  the  apartment,  15,  belonged  to  the  slave  of  the  bed- 
chamber, who  watched  the  apartment  of  his  master;  a  recess 
under  the  staircase,  35,  was,  without  doubt,  the  place  of  the 
atriensis,  or  attendant  on  the  atrium,  when  the  hall,  8,  was 
open,  to  give  admission  to  the  interior  of  the  house;  and  when 
this  hall  was  closed,  he  attended  in  the  chamber,  12,  which  com- 
manded the  entrance  through  the  passage,  or  fauces. 

Lastly,  the  small  lodge,  31,  is  so  placed  as  to  keep  watch 
over   all  communication   between  the   upper   floor,  where   is   the 


64  DETAIL  OF  GROUND  PLAN, 

peristvle,  and  the   lower   tioor,  in  which   the   apartments    of  the 
family  seem  to  have  been  chiefly  situated. 

32.  Apartment,  entirely  ruined,  to  which  it  is  difficult  to 
assign  a  name. 

33.  Large  cyzicene  oecus,  about  thirty-six  feet  by  twenty- 
six.  All  the  windows  ot  this  apartment  opened  almost  to  the 
level  of  the  floor,  and  gave  a  view  of  the  garden,  the  terraces  and 
trellises  which  ornamented  them,  as  well  as  of  the  vast  and  beau- 
tiful prospect  towards  the  sea  and  Vesuvius. 

34.  Large  terraces,  perhaps  formerly  covered  with  trellises, 
which  communicate  with  the  terraces  over  the  gallery  by  which 
the  garden  is  surrounded. 

35.  Staircase  leading  to  the  upper  floor,  on  which  may  have 
been  the  gynaeceum,  or  suite  of  apartments  belonging  to  the 
women.  So  retired  a  situation,  however,  did  not  always  suit  the 
taste  of  the  Roman  ladies. 

Cornelius  Nepos  says  that  "  they  occupy  for  the  most  part 
the  first  floor  in  the  front  of  the  house."  Mazois  w^as  long  im- 
pressed with  the  idea  that  there  must  have  been  an  upper  story 
here,  but  for  a  Ions:  time  he  could  not  find  the  staircase. 

At  last  he  discovered  in  this  place  marks  in  the  plaster, 
which  left  no  doubt  in  his  mind  but  that  it  had  existed  here, 
though  being  of  wood  it  disappeared  with  the  other  woodwork. 
He  recognized  the  inclination  and  the  height  of  the  steps,  and 
found  that  they  were  high  and  narrow,  like  those  stone  stairs 
which  exist  still  in  the  same  dwelling. 

36.  A  sort  of  vestibule  at  the  entrance  of  the  building,  appro- 
priated to  the  ofliices.  This  lower  court  probably  contained  the 
kitchen. 

37.  Bake-house,  apartments  of  the  inferior  slaves,  stables, 
and  other  accessories.  These  are  separated  from  the  main  build- 
ing by  means  of  a  mesaulon,  or  small  internal  court,  to  diminish 
the  danger  in   case  of  a  fire  happening  in   the   kitchen  or   bake- 


PORTICOES    AND    TERRACES.  65 

house.  There  were  two  ways  of  communication  from  the  level  of 
the  street  to  the  level  of  the  garden ;  on  one  side  by  the  corridoi', 
A,  A,  principally  reserved  for  the  servants,  on  the  other  by  the 
staircase,  B.  C,  C,  C.     Portico  round  the  garden. 

The  side  beneath  the  house  and  that  at  the  right  of  the  plan 
are  perfectly  preserved,  but  it  has  been  found  necessary  to  sup- 
port the  terrace  on  this  side  by  inserting  a  modern  pillar  between 
each  of  the  old  ones,  and  to  build  two  massive  piers  beneath  the 
terrace  on  which  the  great  cyzicene  hall  is  situated.  This  por- 
tico was  elegantly  ornamented.  If  we  may  judge  of  the  whole 
from  a  part,  which  is  given  by  Mazois,  the  interior  entablature 
was  ornamented  with  light  mouldings  and  running  patterns,  while 
there  was  a  little  picture  over  each  pillar.  That  in  his  plate 
represents  a  swan  flying  away  with  a  serpent.  The  pillars  were 
square,  the  lower  part  painted  with  flowers  springing  from  trel- 
lises, apparently  of  very  delicate  execution.  The  same  style  of 
painting  occurs  in  the  court  of  the  baths.  The  ceiling  of  the  por- 
tico beneath  the  terrace  is,  in  respect  of  its  construction,  one  of 
the  most  curious  specimens  of  ancient  building  which  have 
reached  our  time.  It  is  a  plane  surface  of  masonry,  hung  in  the 
air,  supported  neither  on  the  principle  of  the  arch,  nor  by  iron 
cramps,  but  owing  its  existence  entirely  to  the  adherence  of  the 
mortar  b}^  which  it  is  cemented.  It  is  divided  into  compartments 
by  false  beams  (caissons)  of  the  same  construction.  The  whole 
is  of  remarkable  solidity.  D.  Open  hall  at  the  end  of  the  west- 
ern portico.  E.  Fountain,  supplied  perhaps  by  the  water  of  the 
cistern.  There  was  formerly  a  well  upon  the  terrace,  34,  by 
which  water  might  be  drawn  from  the  reservoir  of  this  fountain, 
but  it  was  effaced  when  the  area  of  the  terrace  was  restored. 
F,  F,  F.  Different  chambers,  halls,  triclinium,  in  which  the  re- 
mains of  a  carpet  were  found  on  the  floor,  and  other  rooms,  to 
which  it  is  difficult  to  assign  any  particular  destination.  They 
are  all  decorated  in  the  most  elegant  and  refined  manner,  but  their 

5 


66  DETAIL  OF  GROUND  PLAN. 

paintings  are  hastening  to  decay  with  a  rapidity  which  is  grievous 
to  behold.  Fortunately,  the  Academy  of  Naples  has  published  a 
volume  of  details,  in  which  the  greater  part  of  the  frescos  of  this 
villa  are  engraved.  G.  Passage,  leading  by  the  staircase  B  to 
the  upper  floor,  and  by  the  staircase  H  to  the  subterranean  gal- 
leries. There  is  a  similar  staircase,  H,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
portico. 

These  galleries  form  a  crypt  beneath  the  portico,  lighted  and 
aired  by  loop-holes  on  the  level  of  the  ground.  Amphorae,  placed 
in  sand  against  the  wall,  are  still  to  be  seen  there,  and  for  this 
reason  it  has  been  conjectured  that  the  crypt  served  the  purposes 
of  a  cellar;  but  even  this  crypt  was  coarsely  painted.  I.  Mesau- 
lon,  or  court,  which  separates  the  offices  from  the  house.  K. 
Small  room  at  the  extremity  of  the  garden.  L.  An  oratory; 
the  niche  served  to  receive  a  little  statue.  M.  Xystus,  or  gar- 
den. N.  Piscina,  v/ith  a  j'ef  cPeau.  O.  Enclosure  covered  with 
a  trellis.  P.  Door  to  the  countr}^  and  towards  the  sea.  Q.  This 
enclosure,  about  fifteen  feet  wide,  appears  to  have  been  covered 
with  a  trellis,  and  must  have  been  much  frequented,  since  there 
is  a  noble  flight  of  steps  leading  down  to  it  from  the  upper  gar- 
den. It  fronted  the  south,  and  must  have  been  a  delightful  win- 
ter promenade. 

The  arch  to  the  left  is  the  end  of  the  open  hall,  D,  above  the 
portico;  on  each  side  are  the  terraces,  34,  34,  and  in  the  centre 
are  the  remains  of  the  cyzicene  hall.  Beneath  on  the  level  of  the 
portico,  are  the  several  rooms  marked  F,  probably  the  chief  sum- 
mer abode  of  the  family,  being  well  adapted  to  that  purpose  by 
their  refreshing  coolness.  Their  ceilings  for  the  most  part  are 
semicircular  vaults,  richly  painted,  and  the  more  valuable  because 
few  ceilings  have  been  found  in  existence.  We  should  attempt 
in  vain  to  describe  the  complicated  subjects,  the  intricate  and  v^a- 
ried  patterns  with  which  the  fertile  fancy  of  the  arabesque  painter 
lias  clothed  the  walls  and  ceilings,  witliout  the   aid  of  drawings^ 


TOMB    AND    FAMILY    SEPULCHRE.  67 

which  we  are  unable  to  give;  and,  indeed,  eoiored  plates  would 
be  requisite  to  convey  an  adequate  notion  of  their  effect.  In  the 
splendid  work  which  Mr.  Donaldson  has  published  upon  Pompeii, 
several  subjects  taken  from  these  rooms  will  be  found,  some  of 
them  colored,  together  with  eight  mosaics,  some  of  very  compli- 
cated, all  of  elegant  design;  and  to  this  and  similar  works  we 
must  refer  the  further  gratification  of  the  reader's  curiosity. 

Such  was  this  mansion,  in  which  no  doubt  the  owner  took 
pride  and  pleasure,  to  judge  from  the  expense  lavished  with  un- 
sparing hand  on  its  decoration;  and  if  he  could  be  supposed  to 
have  any  cognizance  of  what  is  now  passing  on  earth,  his  vanity 
might  find  some  consolation  for  having  been  prematurely  de- 
prived of  it,  in  the  posthumous  celebrity  which  it  has  obtained. 
But  his  taste  and  wealth  have  done  nothing  to  perpetuate  his 
name,  for  not  a  trace  remains  that  can  indicate  to  what  person  or 
to  what  family  it  belonged.  It  is  indeed  usually  called  the  Villa 
of  Marcus  Arius  Diomedes,  on  the  strength  of  a  tomb  discovered 
about  the  same  period  immediately  opposite  to  it,  bearing  thctt 
name.  No  other  tomb  had  then  been  discovered  so  near  it,  and 
on  this  coincidence  of  situation  a  conclusion  was  drawn  that  this 
must  have  been  a  family  sepulchre,  attached  to  the  house,  and, 
by  consequence,  that  the  house  itself  belonged  to  Diomedes.  The 
conjecture  at  the  outset  rested  but  on. a  sandy  foundation,  which 
has  since  been  entirely  sapped  by  the  discovery  of  numcroue- 
other  tombs  almost  equally  near.  All  that  we  know  of  the  owner 
or  his  family  may  be  comprised  in  one  sentence,  which,  short  a.^ 
it  is,  speaks  forcibly  to  our  feelings.  Their  life  was  one  of  ele- 
gant luxury  and  enjoyment,  in  the  midst  of  which  death  came  on 
them  by  surprise,  a  death  of  singular  and  lingering  agony. 

When  Vesuvius  first  showed  signs  of  the  coming  storm  the 
air  was  still,  as  we  learn  from  the  description  of  Pliny,  and  the 
smoke  of  the  mountain  rose  up  straight,  until  the  atmosphere 
would  bear  it  no  higher,  and  then  spread  on  all  sides  into  a  cano- 


68  THE    VILLA    DESTROYED. 

P3',  suggesting  to  him  the  idea  of  an  enormous  pine  tree.  After 
this  a  wind  sprung  up  from  the  west,  whieh  was  favorable  to  carry 
Pliny  from  Misenum  to  Stabisfc,  but  prevented  his  return.  The 
next  morning  probably  it  veered  something  to  the  north,  when, 
in  the  3'ounger  Pliny's  words,  a  cloud  seemed  to  descend  upon 
the  earth,  to  cover  the  sea,  and  hide  the  Isle  of  Capreae  from  his 
view.  The  ashes  are  said  by  Dion  Cassius  to  have  reached  Egypt,. 
and  in  fact  a  line  drawn  southeast  from  Vesuvius  would  pass  very 
near  Pompeii,  and  cut  Egypt.  It  was  probably  at  this  moment 
that  the  hail  of  tire  fell  thickest  at  Pompeii,  at  daybreak  on  the 
second  morning,  and  if  any  had  thus  long  survived  the  stifling  air 
and  torrid  earth  which  surrounded  them,  their  misery  probably 
was  at  this  moment  brought  to  a  close.  The  villa  of  which  we 
speak  lay  exactly  between  the  city  and  the  mountain,  and  must 
have  felt  the  first,  and,  if  there  were  degrees  of  misery,  where  all 
perished  alike,  the  worst  effects  of  this  fearful  visitation.  Fearful 
is  such  a  visitation  in  the  present  day,  even  to  those  who  crowd  to 
see  an  eruption  of  Vesuvius  as  they  would  to  a  picture-gallery  or 
an  opera ;  how  much  more  terrible,  accompanied  by  the  certainty 
of  impending  death,  to  those  whom  neither  history  nor  experience 
had  familiarized  with  the  most  awful  phenomenon  presented  by  na- 
ture. At  this,  or  possibly  an  earlier  moment,  the  love  of  life 
proved  too  strong  for  the  social  affections  of  the  owner  of  the 
house.  He  fled,  abandoning  to  their  fate  a  numerous  family,  and 
a  young  and  beautiful  daughter,  and  bent  his  way,  with  his  most 
precious  movables,  accompanied  only  by  a  single  slave,  to  the 
sea,  which  he  never  reached  alive.  Plis  daughter,  two  children, 
and  other  members  of  his  family  and  household  sought  protection 
in  the  subterranean  vaults,  which,  by  the  help  of  the  wine-jars 
already  stored  there,  and  the  provisions  which  they  brought  down 
with  them,  they  probably  considered  as  sufficient  refuge  against 
an  e\  11  of  which  they  could  not  guess  the  whole  extent.  It  was 
a  \ain   hope;   the  same  fate  awaited  them  all  by  different  ways. 


-JO  CONX'LUSIVE    EVIDENCE, 

The  strong  \aults  and  narrow  openings  to  the  day  protected 
them,  indeed,  from  the  killing  cinders;  but  the  heat,  sufficient  to 
char  wood,  and  volatilize  the  more  subtle  part  of  the  ashes,  could 
not  be  kcDt  out  by  such  means.  The  vital  air  was  changed  into 
a  sulphurous  vapor,  charged  with  burning  dust.  In  their  despair, 
longing  for  the  pure  breath  of  heaven,  they  rushed  to  the  door, 
already  choked  with  scoriae  and  ruins,  and  perished  in  agonies  on 
which  the  imagination  does  not  willingly  dwell. 

This  the  reader  will  probably  be  inclined  to  think  might  do 
very  well  for  the  conclusion  of  a  romance,  but  why  invent  such 
sentimental  stories  to  figure  in  a  grave  historical  account.^  It  is 
a  remarkable  instance,  perhaps  the  strongest  which  has  yet  oc- 
curred, of  the  peculiar  interest  which  the  discoveries  at  Pompeii 
possess,  as  introducing  us  to  the  homes,  nay,  to  the  very  persons 
of  a  long-forgotten  age,  that  every  circumstance  of  this  tale  can 
be  verified  by  evidence  little  less  than  conclusive.  Beside  the 
garden  gate,  marked  P,  two  skeletons  were  found ;  one  presumed 
to  be  tlie  master,  had  in  his  hand  the  key  of  that  gate,  and  near 
him  were  about  a  hundred  gold  and  silver  coins  ;  the  other, 
stretched  beside  some  silver  v^ases,  was  probably  a  slave  charged 
with  tne  transport  of  them.  When  the  vaults  beneath  the  room, 
D,  were  discovered,  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  H,  the  skeletons 
of  eighteen  adult  persons,  a  boy  and  an  infant  were  found  hud- 
dled up  together,  unmoved  during  seventeen  centuries  since  they 
sank  in  death.  They  were  covered  bv  several  feet  of  ashes  of 
extreme  fineness,  evidently  slowly  borne  in  through  the  vent- 
holes,  and  afterwards  consolidated  by  damp.  The  substance 
thus  formed  resembles  the  sand  used  by  metal  founders  for  cast- 
ings, but  is  3^et  more  delicate,  and  took  perfect  impressions  of 
everything  on  which  it  lay.  Unfortunately  this  property  was  not 
observed  until  almost  too  late,  and  little  was  preserved  except  the 
neck  and  breast  of  a  girl,  which  are  said  to  display  extraordinary 
beauty  of  form.     So  exact  is  the  impression,  that  the  very  texture 


JEWELS    AND    ORNAMENTS.  yi 

of  the  dress  in  which  she  was  clothed  is  apparent,  which  by  its 
extraordinary  fineness  evidently  shows  that  she  had  not  been  a 
slave,  and  may  be  taken  for  the  fine  gauze  which  Seneca  calls 
woven  wind.  On  other  fragments  the  impression  of  jewels  woi^n 
on  the  neck  and  arms  is  distinct,  and  marks  that  several  mem- 
bers of  the  family  here  perished.  The  jewels  themselves  were 
found  beside  them,  comprising,  in  gold,  two  necklaces,  one  set 
with  blue  stones,  and  four  rings,  containing  engraved  gems.  Two 
of  the  skeletons  belonged  to  children,  and  some  of  their  blonde 
hair  was  still  existent ;  most  of  them  are  said  to  have  been  recog- 
nized as  female.  Each  sex  probably  acted  in  conformity  to  its 
character,  the  men  trusting  to  their  own  strength  to  escape,  the 
women  waiting  with  patience  the  issue  of  a  danger  from  which 
their  own  exertions  could  not  save  them. 

In  the  same  vault  bronze  candelabra  and  other  articles, 
jewels  and  coins  were  found.  Amphorae  were  also  found  ranged 
against  the  wall,  in  some  of  which  the  contents,  dried  and  hard- 
ened by  time,  were  still  preserved.  Archaeologists,  it  is  said, 
pretend  to  recognize  in  this  substance  the  flavor  of  the  rich  strong 
wine  for  which  the  neighborhood  of  Vesuvius  is  celebrated. 

Besides  the  interior  garden  within  the  portico,  there  must 
have  been  another  garden  extending  along  the  southern  side  of 
the  house.  The  passage  from  the  peristyle,  7,  the  position  of  the 
elliptic  chamber,  16,  and  the  trellis  work,  Q,  with  its  spacious 
steps,  leave  no  doubt  on  this  subject.  It  has  been  stated  in  a 
German  periodical  that  traces  of  the  plowshare  have  been  distin- 
guished in  the  fields  adjoining  this  villa.  This  is  the  only  author- 
ity we  have  for  supposing  that  the  process  of  excavation  has 
been  extended  at  all  beyond  the  house  itself.  The  garden  to  the 
south  is  still,  to  the  best  of  our  information,  uncleared,  nor  is  it 
likely  that  it  contains  objects  of  sufficient  interest  to  recompense 
the  labor  which  would  be  consumed  in  laying  it  open.  Our 
limited  knowledge  of  ancient  horticulture  is  not  therefore  likel}' 


72 


JEWELS    AND    ORNAMEXTS. 


to  be  increased  by  means  of  Pompeii;  for  such  small  flower-pots 
as  are  attached  to  houses  within  the  town  can  not  contain  any- 
thing worth  notice  beyond  a  fountain  or  a  summer  triclinium. 


HOUSEHOLD  UTENSILS. 

We  will  do  our  best,  however,  to  complete  the  reader^s 
notion  of  an  Italian  villa,  and  show  what  might  have  been,  since 
we  can  not  show  what  has  been  here,  by  borrowing  Pliny's  ac- 
count of  the  garden  attached  to  his  Tuscan  villa,  the  only  account 
of  a  Roman  garden  which  has  come  down  to  us. 

"  In  front  of  the  house  lies  a  spacious  hippodrome,   entirely 


PLINY'S    account    of    a    ROMAN    GARDEN.  73 

Open  in  the  middle,  by  which  means  the  eye,  upon  your  first  en- 
trance, takes  in  its  whole  extent  at  one  view.  It  is  encompassed 
on  every  side  with  plane  trees  covered  with  ivy,  so  that  while 
their  heads  flourish  with  their  own  green,  their  bodies  enjoy  a 
borrowed  verdure ;  and  thus  the  ivy  twining  round  the  trunk  and 
branches,  spreads  from  tree  to 'tree  and  connects  them  together. 
Between  each  plane  tree  are  placed  box  trees,  and  behind  these, 
bay  trees,  which  blend  their  shade  with  that  of  the  planes.  This 
plantation,  forming  a  straight  boundary  on  both  sides  of  the  hip- 
podrome, bends  at  the  further  end  into  a  semi-circle,  which,  being 
set  round  and  sheltered  with  cypresses,  casts  a  deeper  and  more 
gloomy  shade;  while  the  inward  circular  walks  (for  there  are 
several)  enjoying  an  open  exposure,  are  full  of  roses,  and  correct 
the  coolness  of  the  shade  by  the  warmth  of  the  sun. 

"  Having  passed  through  these  several  winding  alleys,  you 
enter  a  straight  walk,  which  breaks  out  into  a  variety  of  others, 
divided  by  box  edges.  In  one  place  you  have  a  little  meadow; 
in  another  the  box  is  cut  into  a  thousand  diflerent  forms,  some- 
times into  letters;  here  expressing  the  name  of  the  master,  there 
that  of  the  artificer;  while  here  and  there  little  obelisks  rise,  in- 
termixed with  fruit  trees;  when  on  a  sudden,  in  the  midst  of  this 
elegant  regularity,  you  are  surprised  with  an  imitation  of  the 
negligent  beauties  of  rural  nature,  in  the  centre  of  which  lies  a 
spot  surrounded  with  a  knot  of  dwarf  plane  trees.  Beyond  thi 
is  a  walk,  interspersed  with  the  smooth  and  twining  acanthus, 
where  the  trees  are  also  cut  into  a  variety  of  names  and  shapes. 
At  the  upper  end  is  an  alcove  of  white  marble,  shaded  with  vines, 
supported  by  four  small  columns  of  Carystian  marble.  Here  is  a 
triclinium,  out  of  which  the  water,  gushing  through  several  little 
pipes,  as  if  it  were  pressed  out  by  the  weight  of  the  persons  who 
repose  upon  it,  falls  into  a  stone  cistern  underneath,  from  whence 
it  is  received  into  a  fine  polished  marble  basin,  so  artfully  con- 
trived that  it  is  always  full  without  ever  overflowing.     When  I 


74  plixy's  account  of  a  roman  garden. 

sup  here,  this  basin  serves  for  a  table,  the  larger  sort  of  dishes 
being  placed  round  the  mirgin,  while  the  smaller  swim  about  in 
the  form  of  little  vessels  and  water-fowl. 

"  Corresponding  to  this  is  a  fountain,  which  is  incessantly 
emptying  and  filling;  for  the  water,  whicli  it  throws  up  to  a  great 
height,  falling  back  again  into  it,  is  returned  as  fast  as  it  is  re- 
ceived, by  means  of  two  openings. 

"  Fronting  the  alcove  stands  a  summer-house  of  exquisite 
marble,  whose  doors  project  and  open  into  a  green  enclosure, 
while  from  its  upper  and  lower  windows  also  the  eye  is  pre- 
sented with  a  variety  of  different  verdures.  Next  to  this  is  a 
little  private  closet,  which,  though  it  seems  distinct,  may  be  laid 
into  the  same  room,  furnished  with  a  couch;  and  notwithstand- 
ing it  has  windows  on  every  side,  yet  it  enjoys  a  very  agreeable 
gloominess,  by  means  of  a  spreading  vine,  which  climbs  to  the 
top  and  entirely  overshades  it.  Here  you  may  lie  and  fancy 
yourself  in  a  wood,  with  this  difference  only,  that  you  are  not  ex- 
posed to  the  weather.  In  this  place  a  fountain  also  rises,  and  in- 
stantly disappears.  In  different  quarters  are  disposed  several 
marble  scats,  which  serve,  as  well  as  the  summer-house,  as  so 
many  reliefs  after  one  is  tired  of  walking.  Near  each  seat  is  a  little 
fountain,  and  throughout  the  whole  hippodrome  several  small 
rills  run  murmuring  along,  wheresoever  the  hand  of  art  thought 
proper  to  conduct  them,  watering  here  and  there  different  spots 
of  verdure,  and  in  their  progress  refreshing  the  whole." 


^TORE^  AND  ^ATINQ  j-foU^E^. 


To  notice  all  the  houses  excavated  at  Pompeii,  would  be 
ivearisome  in  the  extreme.  We  intend  therefore  merely  to  select 
.'iome  of  the  most  important,  to  be  described  at  length,  the 
arrangement  of  which  may  serve,  with  variations  according  to 
place  and  circumstances,  as  a  type  of  the  whole.  Some,  which 
offer  no  particularity  in  their  construction,  are  remarkable  for  the 
beauty  of  their  paintings  or  other  decorations;  and,  indeed,  it  is 
from  the  paintings  on  the  walls  that  many  of  the  houses  have  de- 
rived their  names.  Some  again  are  designated  from  mosaics  or 
inscriptions  on  the  threshold,  from  the  trade  or  profession  evi- 
dently exercised  by  the  proprietors,  or  from  some  accident,  as 
the  presence  of  distinguished  persons  at  their  excavation — as,  for 
instance,  those  called  the  House  of  the  Emperor  Joseph  II.,  del 
Gran  Duca,  degli  Scienziati,  etc.  As  it  is  the  object  of  this  work 
to  convey  a  general  notion  of  the  remains  of  Pompeii,  and  to  ex- 
hibit, as  far  as  our  materials  will  permit,  the  private  life  of  the 
first  century  in  all  its  degrees,  we  shall  begin  with  one  or  two  of 
the  stores.  These  present  great  similarity  in  their  arrangements, 
and  indicate  that  the  tribe  of  storekeepers  was  very  inferior  in 
wealth  and  comfort  to  that  of  our  own  time  and  countr}^  They 
arc  for  the  most  part  very  small,  and  sometimes  without  any  in- 
terior apartment  on  the   ground   floor.     The   upper  floor  must 

75 


*j6  STORES    AND    EATING    HOUSES. 

have  comprised  one  or  two  sleeping-rooms;  but  there  is,  as  we 
believe,  only  one  house  in  which  the  upper  floor  is  in  existence. 

It  is  rare  at  Pompeii  to  see  a  whole  house  set  apart  for  pur- 
poses of  trade,  a  part  being  occupied  by  the  store  itself,  the  rest 
furnishing  a  comfortable  dwelling  for  the  owner.  The  houses  of 
the  richer  classes,  instead  of  presenting  a  handsome  elevation  to 
the  street,  were  usually  surrounded  with  stores.  They  furnished 
considerable  revenue. 

Cicero,  in  a  letter  to  Atticus,  speaks  of  the  ruinous  state  into 
which  some  of  his  stores  had  fallen,  "  insomuch  that  not  only  the 
men,  but  the  mice  had  quitted  them,"  and  hints  at  the  gain  which 
he  hoped  to  derive  from  this  seemingly  untoward  circumstance. 
One  Julia  Felix  possessed  nine  hundred  stores,  as  we  learn  from 
an  inscription  in  Pompeii. 

At  night  the  whole  front  was  closed  with  shutters,  sliding  in 
grooves  cut  in  the  lintel  and  basement  wall  before  the  counter, 
and  by  the  door,  which  is  thrown  far  back,  so  as  to  be  hardly 
visible. 

There  is  an  oven  at  the  end  of  the  counter  furthest  from 
the  street,  and  three  steps  have  been  presumed  to  support  dif- 
ferent sorts  of  vessels  or  measures  for  liquids.  From  these  in- 
dications it  is  supposed  to  have  been  a  cook's  shop;  for  the  sale, 
perhaps,  both  of  undressed  and  dressed  provisions,  as  is  indicated 
in  the  view.  The  oven  probably  served  to  prepare,  and  keep 
constantly  hot,  some  popular  dishes  for  the  service  of  any  chance 
customer;  the  jars  might  hold  oil,  olives,  or  the  fish-pickle 
called  garum^  an  article  of  the  highest  importance  in  a  Roman 
kitchen,  for  the  manufacture  of  which  Pompeii  was  celebrated.* 

*  It  was  made  of  the  entrails  offish  macerated  in  brine.  That  made  from  the  fish 
called  scomber  was  tlie  best.  This  word  is  sometimes  translated  a  herring,  but  the  best 
authorities  render  it  a  mackerel.  It  was  caught,  according  to  Pliny,  in  the  Straits  of 
Gibraltar,  entering  from  the  ocean,  and  was  used  for  no  purpose  but  to  make  garum. 
The  best  was  called  garum  sociorum,  a  term  of  which  we  have  seen  no  satisfactor}^  ex- 
planation, and  sold  for  1.000  sesterces  for  two  congii,  about  $20  a  gallon.  An  inferior 
kind,  made  from  tiie  anchovy  (aphya),  was  called  alec,  a  name  also  given  to  the  dregs 
of  garum.  "  No  liquid,  except  unguents,"  Pliny  says,  "  fetched  a  higher  price."— Hist. 
Nat.  xxxi.  43. 


COOK    SHOP    RESTORED. 


77 


Fixed  vessels  appear  inconvenient  for  such  uses  on  account 
of  the  difficulty  of  cleaning  them  out;  but  the  practice,  it  is  said, 
continues  to  this  day  at  Rome,  where  the  small  shopkeepers  keep 
their  oil  in  similar  jars,  fixed  in  a  counter  of  masonry.  All  the 
ornaments  in  the  view  are  copied  from  Pompeii.  In  front  of  the 
store,  which  stands  opposite  the  passage  leading  behind  the  small 
theatre  to  the  Soldiers'  Quarters,  are  three  stepping-stones,  to  en- 
able persons  to  cross  the  road  without  wetting  their  feet  in  bad 
weather. 

In  conjunction  with  a  street  view,  we  give  the  view  of  an- 
other shop,  which 
has  also  a  counter 
containing  jars  for 
the  reception  of 
some  liquid  com- 
modity. By  some 
it  is  called  a  Ther- 
mopolium,  or  store 
for  the  sale  of  hot 
drinks,  while  others 
call  it  an  oil  store. 
In  front  is  a  foun- 
tain. It  is  situated 
at  the  angle  of  the 
street  immediately 
adjoining  the  House  of  Pansa.  The  left-hand  street  leads  to 
the  Gate  of  Herculaneum;  the  right,  skirting  Pansa's  house,  is 
terminated  by  the  city  walls. 

Tracks  of  wheels  are  very  visible  on  the  pavement.  The  inte- 
rior was  gaily  painted  in  blue  panels  and  red  borders,  as  we  learn 
from  the  colored  view  in  Mr.  Donaldson's  Pompeii,  from  which 
this  is  taken.  The  counter  is  faced  and  covered  with  marble. 
Numerous  thermopolia  have  been  discovered  in  Pompeii,  many 


KKSTAUKANT.     {From  Wall  Painting. 


78 


STORES    AND    EATING    HOUSES. 


BED  AND  TABLE  AT  POMPEII.    (From  Wall  Painting.') 


of  them  identified,  or  supposed  to  be  identified,  by  the  stains  leit 
upon  the  counters  by  wet  glasses. 

In  the  centre  is  a  small  altar,  placed  before  a  niche,  orna- 
mented with  the  painting  of  some  goddess  holding  a  cornucopia. 
She  is  reposing  on  a  couch,  closely  resembling  a  modern  French 

bed.  The  mattress  is 
white,  striped  with 
violet,  and  spotted 
with  gold ;  the  cushion 
is  violet.  The  tunic 
of  the  goddess  is  blue, 
the  bed,  the  table, 
and  the  cornucopia, 
gold.  This  house 
stands  just  by  the 
gate  of  Herculaneum,  adjoining  the  broad  flight  of  steps  which 
leads  up  to  the  ramparts.  Bonucci  supposes  that  it  belonged  to 
the  oflScer  appointed  to  take  charge  of  the  gate  and  walls. 

We  may  take  this  opportunity  to  describe  the  nature  and  ar- 
rangement of  the  triclinium,  of  which  such  frequent  mention  has 
been  made.  In  the  earlier  times  of  Rome,  men  sat  at  table  — 
the  habit  of  reclining  was  introduced  from  Carthage  after  the 
Punic  wars.  At  first  these  beds  were  clumsy  in  form,  and  cov- 
ered with  mattresses  stuffed  with  rushes  or  straw.  Hair  and 
wool  mattresses  were  introduced  from  Gaul  at  a  later  period,  and 
were  soon  followed  by  cushions  stuffed  with  feathers.  At  first 
these  tricliniary  beds  were  small,  low,  and  round,  and  made  of 
wood;  afterwards,  in  the  time  of  Augustus,  square  and  highly 
ornamented  couches  came  into  fashion.  In  the  reign  of  Tiberius 
they  began  to  be  veneered  with  costly  woods  or  tortoiseshell,  and 
were  covered  with  valuable  embroideries,  the  richest  of  which 
came  from  Babylon,  and  cost  incredible  sums. 

Each  couch  contained  three  persons,  and,  properly,  the  whole 


POMPEIAN    BILL    OF    FARE. 


79 


3 

6 

5     4 

7 

I 

8 

2 

9 

PLAN  OF  A  TRICLINIUM. 


arrangement  consisted  of  three  couches,  so  that  the  number  at 
table  did  not  exceed  the  number  of  the  Muses,  and  each  person 
had  his  seat  according  to    his    rank  and    dignity.     The  places 

were  thus  appropriated:  i.  The 
host.  2.  His  wife.  3.  Guest.  4 
Consular  place,  or  place  of  honor 
This  was  the  most  convenient  sit 
nation  at  table,  because  he  who  oc 
cupied  it,  resting  on  his  left  arm 
could  easily  with  his  right  reach 
any  part  of  the  table  without  incon 
venience  to  his  neighbors.  It  was 
therefore,  set  apart  for  the  person  of  highest  rank.  5,  6,  7,  8 
9.  Other  guests. 

The  entertainment  itself  usually  comprised  three  services 
the  first  consisting  of  fresh  eggs,  olives,  oysters,  salad,  and  other 
light  delicacies;  the  second  of  made  dishes,  fish,  and  roast  meats 
the  third  of  pastry,  confectionery,  and  fruits.  A  remarkable 
painting,  discovered  at  Pompeii,  gives  a  curious  idea  of  a  com- 
plete feast.  It  represents  a  table  set  out  with  every  requisite  for 
a  grand  dinner.  In  the  centre  is  a  large  dish,  in  which  four  pea- 
cocks are  placed,  one  at  each  corner,  forming  a  magnificent  dome 
with  their  tails.  All  round  are  lobsters— one  holding  in  his  claws 
a  blue  egg,  a  second  an  oyster,  a  third  a  stuffed  rat,  a  fourth  a 
little  basket  full  of  grasshoppers.  Four  dishes  of  fish  decorate 
the  bottom,,  above  which  are  several  partridges,  and  hares,  and 
squirrels,  each  holding  its  head  between  its  paws.  The  whole  is 
surrounded  by  something  resembling  a  German  sausage;  then 
comes  a  row  of  yolks  of  eggs;  then  a  row  of  peaches,  small 
melons,  and  cherries;  and  lastly,  a  row  of  vegetables  of  different 
sorts.  The  whole  is  covered  with  a  sort  of  green-colored  sauce. 
Another  house,  also  of  the  minor  class,  yet  superior  to  any 
hitherto  described,  is  recommended  to  our  notice  by  the  beauty 


6o  STORES    AND    EATING    HOUSES. 

of  the  paintings  found.  That  the  proprietor  was  not  rich  is  evi- 
dent from  its  limited  extent  and  accommodation  ;  yet  he  had 
some  small  property,  as  we  may  infer  from  the  shop  communi- 
cating with  the  house,  in  which  were  sold  such  articles  of  agri- 
rultural  produce  as  were  not  required  for  the  use  of  the  family. 

This  house  was  formerly  decorated  with  paintings  taken 
from  the  Odyssey,  and  from  the  elegant  fictions  of  Grecian  my- 
thology. When  Mazois  visited  it  in  1812,  two  paintings  in  the 
atrium  were  still  in  existence,  though  in  a  very  perishing  state. 
Shortly  after  he  had  copied  them  they  fell,  owing  to  the  plaster 
detaching  itself  from  the  wall.  One  of  them  is  taken  from  the 
Odyssey,  and  represents  Ulysses  and  Circe,  at  the  moment  when 
the  hero,  having  drunk  the  charmed  cup  with  impunity,  by  virtue 
of  the  antidote  given  him  by  Mercury,  draws  his  sword  and 
advances  to  avenge  his  companions.*  The  goddess,  terrified, 
makes  her  submission  at  once,  as  described  by  Homer,  while  her 
two  attendants  fly  in  alarm;  yet  one  of  them,  with  a  natural 
curiosity,  can  not  resist  the  temptation  to  look  back,  and  observe 
the  termination  of  so  unexpected  a  scene.  Circe  uses  the  very 
gesture  of  supplication  so  constantly  described  by  Flomer  and  the 
tragedians,  as  she  sinks  on  her  knees,  extending  one  hand  to 
clasp  the  knees  of  Ulysses,  with  the  other  endeavoring  to  touch 
his  beard.f  This  picture  is  remarkable,  as  teaching  us  the  origin 
of  that  ugly  and  unmeaning  glory  with  which  the  heads  of  saints 
are  often  surrounded.  The  Italians  borrowed  it  from  the  Greek 
artists  of  the  lower  empire,  in  whose  paintings  it  generally  has 
the  appearance,   as  we  believe,  of  a  solid  plate  of  gold.     The 

*  "  Hence,  seek  the  sty— there  wallow  with  thy  friends." 
She  spake.     I  drawing  from  beside  my  thigh 
My  faulcliion  keen,  with  deathcleuouncing  looks 
liushed  on  her;  she  with  a  shrill  scream  of  fear 
Ran  under  my  raised  arm,  seized  fast  my  knees. 
And  in  winged  accents  plaintive  thus  began: 
"  Say,  who  art  thou,"  etc. — Cowper's  Odyss.  x.  320. 

f  She  sat  before  him,  clasped  with  her  left  hand 
His  knees;  her  right  beneath  his  chin  she  placed, 
And  thus  the  king,  Saturnian  Jove,  implored. — II.  i.  500. 


CIRCE,    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    SUN.  8 1 

giory  round  Circe's  head  has  the  same  character,  the  outer  hmb 
or  circle  being  strongly  defined,  not  shaded  off  and  divining  into 
rays,  as  we  usually  see  it  in  the  Italian  school.  This  glory  was 
called  nimbus,  or  aureola,  and  is  defined  by  Servius  to  be  "  the 
luminous  fluid  which  encircles  the  heads  of  the  gods."  It  be- 
longs with  peculiar  propriety  to  Circe,  as  the  daughter  of  the  sun. 
The  emperors,  with  their  usual  modesty,  assumed  it  as  the  mark 
of  their  divinity;  and,  under  this  respectable  patronage,  it  passed, 
like  many  other  Pagan  superstitions  and  customs,  in  the  use  oi 
the  church. 

The  other  picture  represents  Achilles  at  Scyros,  where  The- 
tis had  hidden  him  among  the  daughters  of  Lycomedes,  to  pre- 
vent his  engaging  in  the  Trojan  war.  Ulysses  discovered  him 
by  bringing  for  sale  arms  mixed  with  female  trinkets,  in  the  char- 
acter of  a  merchant.  The  story  is  well  known.  The  painting 
represents  the  moment  when  the  young  hero  is  seizing  the  arms. 
Deidamia  seems  not  to  know  what  to  make  of  the  matter,  and 
tries  to  hold  him  back,  while  Ulysses  is  seen  behind  with  his  fin- 
ger on  his  lips,  closely  observing  all  that  passes. 


HEAD  OF  CIRCa. 


JioUgEg  Of  pAJN^A  AND    ^ALLU^T. 


The  two  compartments  marked  30  are  houses  of  a  very 
mean  class,  having  formerly  an  upper  story.  Behind  the  last  of 
them  is  a  court,  which  gives  light  to  one  of  the  chambers  of 
Pansa's  house.  On  the  other  side  of  the  island  or  block  are 
three  houses  (32),  small,  but  of  much  more  respectable  extent 
and  accommodation,  which  probably  were  also  meant  to  be  let. 
In  that  nearest  the  garden  were  found  the  skeletons  of  four  wom- 
en, with  gold  ear  and  linger  rings  having  engraved  stones,  be- 
sides other  valuables;  showing  that  such  inqmlini^  or  lodgers, 
were  not  always  of  the  lowest  class. 

The  best  view  of  this  house  is  from  the  front  of  the  door- 
way. It  offers  to  the  eye,  successively,  the  doorway,  the  pro- 
thyrum,  the  atrium,  with  its  impluvium,  the  Ionic  peristyle,  and 
the  garden  wall,  with  Vesuvius  in  the  distance.  The  f.atrance 
IS  decorated  with  two  pilasters  of  the  Corinthian  order.  Besides 
the  outer  door,  there  was  another  at  the  end  of  the  prothyrum,  to 
secure  the  atrium  against  too  early  intrusion.  The  latter  apart- 
ment was  paved  with  marble,  with  a  gentle  inclination  towards 
the  impluvium.  Through  the  tablinum  the  peristyle  is  seen,  with 
two  of  its  Ionic  capitals  still  remaining.  The  columns  are  six- 
teen in  number,  fluted,  except  for  about  one-third  of  their  height 
from  the  bottom.  They  are  made  of  a  volcanic  stone,  and,  with 
their  capitals,  are  of  good  execution.  But  at  some  period  subse- 
quent to  the  erection  of  the  house,  probably  after  the  earthquake, 
A.D.  63,  t;:cy  have  been  covered  with  hard   stucco,  and  large 

82 


CURIOUS    RELIGIOUS    PAINTING.  83 

leaves  of  the  same  material  set  under  the  volutes,  so  as  to  trans- 
form them  into  a  sort  of  pseudo- Corinthian,  or  Composite  order. 
It  is  not  impossible  that  the  exclusively  Italian  order,  which  we 
call  Composite,  may  have  originated  in  a  similar  caprice.  Of 
the  disposition  of  the  garden,  which  occupied  the  open  part  of  the 
peristyle,  we  have  little  to  say.  Probably  it  was  planted  with 
choice  flowers.  Slabs  of  marble  were  placed  at  the  angles  to  re- 
ceive the  drippings  of  the  roof,  which  were  conducted  by  metal 
conduits  into  the  central  basin,  which  is  about  six  feet  in  depth, 
and  was  painted  green.  In  the  centre  of  it  there  stood  a  jet 
d'eau,  as  there  are  indications  enough  to  prove.  This  apartment, 
if  such  it  may  be  called,  was  unusually  spacious,  measiiri.;^-  about 
sixty-five  feet  by  fifty.  The  height  of  the  columns  was  equal  to 
the  width  of  the  colonnade,  about  sixteen  feet.  Their  unfluted 
part  is  painted  yellow,  the  rest  is  coated  with  white  stucco.  The 
floor  is  elevated  two  steps  above  the  level  of  the  tablinum. 

A  curious  religious  painting,  now  almost  effaced,  was  found 
in  the  kitchen,  representing  the  worship  offered  to  the  Lares, 
under  whose  protection  and  custody  the  provisions  and  all  the 
cooking  utensils  were  placed.  In  the  centre  is  a  sacrifice  in  honor 
of  those  deities,  who  are  represented  below  in  the  usual  form  of 
two  huge  serpents  brooding  over  an  altar.  There  is  something 
remarkable  in  the  upper  figures.  The  female  figure  in  the  centre 
holds  a  cornucopia,  and  each  of  the  male  figures  holds  a  small 
vase  in  the  hand  nearer  to  the  altar,  and  a  horn  in  the  other.  All 
the  faces  are  quite  black,  and  the  heads  of  the  male  figures 
are  surrounded  with  something  resembling  a  glory.  Their 
dress  in  general,  and  especially  their  boots,  which  are  just  like  the 
Hungarian  boots  now  worn  on  the  stage,  appear  different  from 
anything  which  is  to  be  met  with  elsewhere.  Are  these  figures 
meant  for  the  Lares  themselves  ?  On  each  side  are  represented 
different  sorts  of  eatables.  On  the  left  a  bunch  of  small  birds, 
a  string  of  fish,  a  boar  with  a  girth  about  his  body,  and  a  magnif- 


84 


HOUSES    OF    PANSA    AND    SALLUST. 


icently  curling  tail,  and  a  few  loaves,  or  rather  cakes,  of  the  pre- 
cise pattern  of  some  which  have  been  found  in  Pompeii:  on  the 
right,  an  eel  spitted  on  a  wire,  a  ham,  a  boar's  head,  and  a  joint 
of  meat,  which,  as  pig-meat  seems  to  have  been  in  request  here, 
we  may  conjecture  to  be  a  loin  of  pork ;  at  least  it  is  as  like  that 
as  anything  else.  It  is  suspended  by  a  reed,  as  is  still  done  at 
Rome.  The  execution  of  this  painting  is  coarse  and  careless  in 
the  extreme,  yet  there  is  a  spirit  and  freedom  of  touch  which  has 
hit  off  the  character  of  the  objects  represented,  and  forbids  us  to 
impute  the  negligence  which  is  displayed  to  incapacity.  Another 
object  ol'  interest  in  the  kitchen  is  a  stove  for  stews  and  similar 
preparations,  very  much   like  those  charcoal   stoves  which  are 

seen  in  exten- 
sive kitchens 
at  the  present 
day.  Before  it 
lie  a  knife, 
strainers,  and  a 
strange  -  look- 
ing sort  of  a  fry- 
ing-pan, with 
four  spherical 
cavities,  as  if  it 
were  meant  to 
cook  eggs.  A  similar  one,  containing  twenty- nine  egg-holes,  has 
been  found,  which  is  circular,  about  fifteen  inches  in  diameter, 
and  without  a  handle.  Another  article  of  kitchen  furniture  is  a 
sort  of  flat  ladle  pierced  with  holes,  said  to  belong  to  the  class 
called  trua.  It  was  meant  apparently  to  stir  up  vegetables,  etc., 
while  boiling,  and  to  strain  the  water  from  them. 

This  house  has  been  long  excavated,  and  perhaps  that  is  the 
reason  that,  considering  its  extent  and  splendor,  the  notices  of  it 
are  particularly  meagre.     Of  the  decorations  we  have  been  able 


KITCHEN   FURNITURE  AT  POMPEII. 


GENERAL    VIEW    OF    HOUSE.  85 

to  proC'ire  no  detailed  accounts,  though  several  paintings  are  said 
to  have  been  found  in  it,  and  among  them,  one  of  Danae  amid 
the  golden  shower,  deserving  of  notice.  Of  the  garden  little  can 
be  said,  for  little  is  known.  According  to  the  best  indications 
which  Mazois  could  observe,  it  consisted  of  a  number  of  straight 
parallel  beds,  divided  by  narrow  paths,  which  gave  access  to  them 
for  horticultural  purposes,  but  with  no  walk  for  air  and  exercise 
except  the  portico  which  adjoins  the  house. 

Inferior  to  the  House  of  Pansa,  and  to  some  others  in  size, 
but  second  to  none  in  elegance  of  decoration  and  in  the  interest 
which  it  excites,  is  a  house  in  the  street  leading  from  the  Gate  of 
Herculaneum  to  the  Forum,  called  by  some  the  House  of  Actaeon, 
from  a  painting  found  in  it ;  by  others  the  House  of  Caius  Sallus- 
tius.  It  occupies  the  southernmost  portion  of  an  insula-  extend- 
ins:  backwards  to  the  citv  walls. 

It  is  remarkable  that  the  architects  of  Pompeii  seem  to  have 
been  careless  for  the  most  part  whether  they  built  on  a  regular  or 
an  irregular  area.  The  practice  of  surrounding  the  owner's 
abode  with  shops,  enabled  them  to  turn  to  advantage  the  sides 
and  corners  of  any  piece  of  ground,  however  misshapen.  Thus 
in  another  plan  the  apartments  of  the  dwelling-houses  are 
almost  all  well  shaped  and  rectangular,  though  not  one  of  the 
four  angles  of  the  area  is  a  right  angle. 

The  general  view,  of  this  house  is  taken  from  the  street  in 
front,  and  runs  completely  through  to  the  garden  wall.  One  of 
the  pilasters  which  flank  the  doorway  has  its  capital  still  in  good 
preservation.  It  is  cut  out  of  gray  lava,  and  represents  a  Silenus 
and  Faun  side  by  side,  each  holding  one  end  of  an  empty  leather 
bottle,  thrown  over  their  shoulders.  Ornaments  of  this  char- 
acter, which  can  be  comprehended  under  none  of  the  orders  of 
architecture,  are  common  in  Pompeii,  and  far  from  unpleasing  in 
their  effect,  however  contrary  to  established  principles.  On  the 
right  is  the  large  opening  into  the  vestibule.    In  the  centre  of  the 


86  HOUSES  OF  PANSA  AND  SALLUST. 

view  is  the  atrium,  easily  recognized  by  the  impluvium,  and  be- 
yond it  through  the  tabhnum  are  seen  the  pillars  of  the  portico. 
Beyond  the  impluvium  is  the  place  of  a  small  altar  for  the  wor- 
ship of  the  Lares.  A  bronze  hind,  through  the  mouth  of  which  a 
stream  of  water  flowed,  formerly  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  basin. 
It  bore  a  figure  of  Hercules  upon  its  back. 

The  walls  of  the  atrium  and  tablinum  are  curiously  stuccoed 
in  large  raised  panels,  with  deep  channels  between  them,  the 
panels  being  painted  of  different  colors,  strongly  contrasted  with 
«ach  other. 

We  find  among  them  different  shades  of  the  same  color,  sev- 
eral reds,  for  instance,  as  sinopis,  cinnabar,  and  others.  This 
sort  of  decoration  has  caused  some  persons  to  call  this  the  house 
of  a  color-seller — a  conjecture  entirely  at  variance  with  the  luxury 
and  elegance  which  reign  in  it.  The  floor  was  of  red  cement^ 
with  bits  of  white  marble  imbedded  in  it. 

The  altar  in  the  atrium  and  the  little  oratory  in  the  left-hand 
ala  belong  to  the  worship  of  the  Lares  domestic/  or  familiares^ 
as  is  indicated  by  the  paintings  found  in  the  false  doorway,  but 
now  removed.  They  consisted  of  a  serpent  below  and  a  group 
of  four  figures  above,  employed  in  celebrating  a  sacrifice  to  these 
gods. 

In  the  centre  is  a  tripod,  into  which  a  priest,  his  head  cov- 
ered, is  pouring  the  contents  of  a  patera.  On  each  side  are  two 
young  men,  dressed  alike,  apparently  in  the  prsetexta;  at  least 
their  robes  are  white,  and  there  is  a  double  red  stripe  down  the 
front  of  their  tunics,  and  a  red  drapery  is  thrown  over  the  should- 
ers of  each.  In  one  hand  each  holds  a  patera ;  in  the  other  each 
holds  aloft  a  cow^s  horn  perforated  at  the  small  end,  through 
which  a  stream  is  spouting  into  the  patera  at  a  considerable  dis- 
tance. This,  though  an  inconvenient,  seems  to  have  been  a  com- 
mon drinking-vessel.  The  method  of  using  it  has  already  been 
described.     In  the  background  is  a  man  playing  on  the  double  flute. 


WORSHIP    OF    THE    LARES.  87 

The  worship  of  the  Lares  was  thus  pubHcly  represented,  and 
their  images  were  exposed  to  view,  that  all  persons  might  have 
an  opportunity  of  saluting  them  and  invoking  prosperity  on  the 
house.  Noble  families  had  also  a  place  of  domestic  w^orship 
{adytum  or  penetrale)  in  the  most  retired  part  of  their  mansions, 
where  their  most  valuable  records  and  hereditary  memorials  were 
preserved. 

The  worship  of  these  little  deities  {Dii  miniiti^  or  patellar ii^ 
was  universally  popular,  partly  perhaps  on  account  of  its  eco- 
nomical nature,  for  they  seem  to  have  been  satisfied  with  any- 
thing that  came  to  hand,  partly  perhaps  from  a  sort  of  feeling  of 
good  fellowship  in  them  and  towards  them,  like  that  connected 
with  the  Brownies  and  Cluricaunes,  and  other  household  goblins 
of  northern  extraction. 

Like  those  goblins  the}^  were  represented  sometimes  under 
very  grotesque  forms.  There  is  a  bronze  figure  of  one  found  at 
Herculaneum,  and  figured  in  the  Antiquites  dTIerculanum, 
plate  XV ii.  vol.  viii.,  which  represents  a  little  old  man  sitting  on 
the  ground  with  his  knees  up  to  his  chin,  a  huge  head,  ass's  ears, 
a  long  beard,  and  a  roguish  face,  which  would  agree  well  with 
our  notion  of  a  Brownie.  Their  statues  were  often  placed  be- 
hind the  door,  as  having  power  to  keep  out  all  things  hurtful, 
especially  evil  genii.  Respected  as  they  were,  they  sometimes 
met  with  rough  treatment,  and  were  kicked  or  cuffed,  or  thrown 
out  of  window  without  ceremony,  if  any  unlucky  accident  had 
chanced  through  their  neglect.  Sometimes  they  were  imaged 
under  the  form  of  dogs,  the  emblems  of  fidelity  and  watchfulness, 
sometimes,  like  their  brethren  of  the  highways  (Lares  compi- 
tales),  in  the  shape  of  serpents. 

The  tutelary  genii  of  men  or  places,  a  class  of  beings  closely 
allied  to  Lares,  were  supposed  to  manifest  themselves  in  the  same 
shape:  as,  for  example,  a  sacred  serpent  was  believed  at  Athens 
to  keep  watch  in  the  temple  of  Athene  in  the  Acropolis.     Hence 


88  HOUSES    OF    PANSA    AND    SALLUST 

paintings  of  these  animals  became  in  some  sort  the  guardians  of 
the  spot  in  which  they  were  set  up,  like  images  of  saints  in 
Roman  Catholic  countries,  and  not  unfrequently  were  employed 
when  it  was  wished  to  secure  any  place  from  irreverent  treat- 
ment. 

From  these  associations  the  presence  of  serpents  came  to 
be  considered  of  good  omen,  and  by  a  natural  consequence  they 
were  kept  (a  harmless  sort  of  course)  in  the  houses,  where  they 
nestled  about  the  altars,  and  came  out  like  dogs  or  cats  to  be 
patted  by  the  visitors,  and  beg  for  something  to  eat.  Nay,  at 
table,  if  we  may  build  upon  insulated  passages,  they  crept  about 
the  cups  of  the  guests;  and  in  hot  weather  ladies  would  use  them 
as  live  boas,  and  twist  them  round  their  necks  for  the  sake  of 
coolness. 

^lartial,  however,  our  authority  for  this,  seems  to  consider 
it  as  an  odd  taste.  Virgil,  therefore,  in  a  tine  passage,  in  which 
he  has  availed  himself  of  the  divine  nature  attributed  to  serpents, 
is  only  describing  a  scene  which  he  may  often  have  witnessed  : 

Scarce  b;ul  he  finished,  when  with  speckled  pride, 

A  serpent  from  the  tomb  be.^aa  to  glide; 

His  hugy  bulk  on  seven  high  volumes  rolled. 

Blue  was  his  breadth  of  back,  but  streaked  with  scaly  gold; 

Thus,  riding  on  his  curls,  he  seemed  to  pass 

A  rolling  fire  along,  and  singe  the  grass. 

More  various  colors  tlirough  his  body  run. 

Than  Iris,  when  her  bow  imbibes  the  sun. 

Betwixt  the  rising  altars,  and  around, 

The  rolling  monster  shot  along  the  ground. 

With  harmless  play  amidst  the  bowls  lie  passed, 

And  with  his  lolling  tongue  assayed  the  taste; 

Thus  fed  with  holy  food,  the  wondrous  guest 

Within  the  hollow  tomb  retired  to  rest. 

The  pious  prince,  surprised  at  what  he  viewed, 

The  funeral  honors  with  more  zeal  renewed; 

Doubtful  if  this  the  place's  genius  were. 

Or  guardian  of  his  father's  sepulchre. 

We  may  conjecture  from  the  paintings,  which  bear  a  marked 


DOMESTICATED    SERPENTS.  89 

resemblance  to  one  another,  that  these  snakes  were  of  consider- 
able size,  and  of  the  same  species,  probably  that  called  ^Escula- 
pius,  which  was  brought  from  Epidaurus  to  Rome  with  the 
worship  of  the  god,  and,  as  we  are  told  by  Pliny,  was  commonly 
fed  in  the  houses  of  Rome.  These  sacred  animals  made  war  on 
the  rats  and  mice,  and  thus  kept  down  one  species  of  vermin; 
but  as  they  bore  a  charmed  life,  and  no  one  laid  violent  hands  on 
them,  they  multiplied  so  fast,  that,  like  the  monkeys  of  Benares, 
they  became  an  intolerable  nuisance.  The  frequent  fires  at  Rome 
were  the  only  things  that  kept  them  under. 

Passing  through  the  tablinum,  we  enter  the  portico  of  the 
xystus,  or  garden,  a  spot  small  in  extent,  but  full  of  ornament  and 
of  beauty,  though  not  that  sort  of  beauty  which  the  notion  of  a 
garden  suggests  to  us.  It  is  not  larger  than  a  city  garden,  the 
object  of  our  continual  ridicule ;  yet  while  the  latter  is  ornamented 
only  with  one  or  two  scraggy  poplars,  and  a  few  gooseberry- 
bushes  with  many  more  thorns  than  leaves,  the  former  is  elegant- 
ly decorated  by  the  hand  of  art,  and  set  apart  as  the  favorite  re- 
treat of  festive  pleasure.  True  it  is  that  the  climate  of  Italy  suits 
out-of-door  amusements  better  than  our  own,  and  that  Pompeii 
was  not  exposed  to  that  plague  of  soot  which  soon  turns  marble 
goddesses  into  chimney-sweepers.  The  portico  is  composed  of 
columns,  fluted  and  corded,  the  lower  portion  of  them  painted 
blue,  without  pedestals,  yet  approaching  to  the  Roman  rather 
than  to  the  Grecian  Doric.  The  entablature  is  gone.  From  the 
portico  we  ascend  by  three  steps  to  the  xystus.  Its  small  extent, 
not  exceeding  in  its  greatest  dimensions  seventy  feet  by  twenty, 
did  not  permit  trees,  hardly  even  shrubs,  to  be  planted  in  it.  The 
centre,  therefore,  was  occupied  by  a  pavement,  and  on  each  side 
boxes  filled  with  earth  v/ere  ranged  for  flowers;  while,  to  make 
amends  for  the  want  of  real  verdure,  the  whole  wall  opposite  the 
portico  is  painted  with  trellises  and  fountains,  and  birds  drinking 
from  them;  and  above,  with  thickets  enriched  and  ornamented 
with  numerous  tribes  of  their  winged  inhabitants. 


90 


HOUSES    OF    PAXSA    AND    SALLUST. 


The  most  interesting  discoveries  at  Pompeii  are  those  which 
throw  hght  on,  or  confirm  passages  of  ancient  authors.  Exactly 
the  same  style  of  ornament  is  described  by  Pliny  the  Younger  as 
existino;  in  his  Tuscan  villa.  '' Another  cubiculum  is  adorned 
with  sculptured  marble  for  the  height  of  the  podium;  above  which 
is  a  painting  of  trees,  and  birds  sitting  on  them,  not  inferior  in 
elegance  to  the  marble  itself  Under  it  is  a  small  fountain,  and 
in  the  fountain  a  cup,  round  which  the  playing  of  several  small 
water-pipes  makes  a  most  agreeable  murmur."  At  the  end  of 
this  branch  of  the  garden,  which  is  shaped  like  an  L,  we  see  an 
interesting  monument  of  the  customs  of  private  life.  It  is  a  sum- 
mer triclinium,  in  plan  like  that  which  has  been  mentioned  in  the 
preceding  chapter,  but  much  more  elegantly  decorated.  The 
couches  are  of  masonry,  intended  to  be  covered  with  mattresses 
and  rich  tapestry  when  the  feast  was  to  be  held  here:  the  round 
table  in  the  centre  was  of  marble.  Above  it  was  a  trellis,  as  is 
shown  by  the  square  pillars  in  front  and  the  holes  in  the  walls 
which  enclose  two  sides  of  the  triclinium.  These  walls  are  ele- 
gantly painted  in  panels,  in  the  prevailing  taste  ;  but  above  the 
panelling  there  is  a  whimsical  frieze,  appropriate  to  the  purpose 
of  this  little  pavilion,  consisting  ol  all  sorts  of  eatables  which  can 
be  introduced  at  a  feast.  When  Mazois  first  saw  it  the  colors 
were  fresh  and  beautiful  ;  but  when  he  wrote,  after  a  lapse  of 
ten  years,  it  was  already  in  decay,  and  ere  now  it  has  probably 
disappeared,  so  perishable  are  all  those  beauties  which  can  not 
be  protected  from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather  by  removal. 
In  front  a  stream  of  water  pours  into  a  basin  from  the  wall, 
on  which,  half  painted,  half  raised  in  relief,  is  a  mimic  fountain 
surmounted  by  a  stag.  Between  the  fountain  and  triclinium,  in 
a  line  between  the  two  pilasters  which  supported  the  trellis,  was 
a  small  altar,  on  which  the  due  libations  might  be  poured  by 
the  festive  party.  In  the  other  limb  of  the  garden  is  a  small 
furnace,  probably  intended  to  keep  water  constantl}'  hot  for  the 


DISCOVERIES    CONFIRM    ANCIENT    AUTHORS.  9 1 

use  of  those  who  preferred  warm  potations.  Usually  the  Romans 
drank  their  wine  mixed  with  snow,  and  clarified  through  a 
strainer,  of  which  there  are  inany  in  the  Museum  of  Naples, 
curiously  pierced  in  intricate  patterns  ;  but  those  who  were  under 
medical  care  were  not  alwa\'s  suffered  to  enjoy  this  luxury. 
Martial  laments  his  being  condemned  by  his  physician  to  drink 
no  cold  wine,  and  concludes  with  wishing  that  his  enviers  may 
have  nothing  but  warm  water.  At  the  other  end  of  the  garden, 
opposite  the  front  of  the  triclinium,  was  a  cistern  which  collected 
the  rain  waters,  whence  they  were  drawn  for  the  use  of  the 
garden  and  of  the  house.  There  was  also  a  cistern  at  the  end 
of  the  portico,  next  the  triclinium. 

The  several  rooms  to  the  left  of  the  atrium  offer  nothing  re- 
markable. On  the  right,  however,  as  will  be  evident  upon  in- 
specting the  plan,  a  suite  of  apartments  existed,  carefully  detached 
from  the  remainder  of  the  house,  and  communicating  only  with 
the  atrium  by  a  single  passage.  The  disposition  and  the  orna- 
ments of  this  portion  of  the  house  prove  that  it  was  a  private 
venereum^  a  place,  if  not  consecrated  to  the  goddess  from  whom 
it  derives  its  name,  at  least  especially  devoted  to  her  service. 
The  strictest  privacy  has  been  studied  in  its  arrangements  ;  no 
building  overlooks  it;  the  only  entrance  is  closed  by  two  doors, 
both  of  which  we  may  conjecture,  were  never  suffered  to  be  open 
at  once;  and  beside  them  was  the  apartment  of  a  slave,  whose 
duty  was  to  act  as  porter  and  prevent  intrusion.  Passing  the 
second  door,  the  visitor  found  himself  under  a  portico  supported 
by  octagonal  columns,  with  a  court  or  open  area  in  the  centre, 
and  in  the  middle  of  it  a  small  basin.  At  each  end  of  the  por- 
tico is  a  small  cabinet,  with  appropriate  paintings:  in  one  of  them 
a  painting  of  Venus,  Mars,  and  Cupid  is  conspicuous. 

The  apartments  were  paved  with  marble,  and  the  walls  lined 
breast-high  with  the  same  material.  A  niche  in  the  cabinet 
nearest  the  triclinium   contained   a   small   image,  a  gold  vase,  a 


^2  HOUSES  OF  PANSA  AND  SALLUST. 

gold  coin,  and  twelve  bronze  medals  of  the  reign  of  Vespasian; 
and  near  this  spot  were  found  eight  small  bronze  columns,  which 
appear  to  have  formed  part  of  a  bed. 

Li  the  adjoining  lane  four  skeletons  were  found,  apparently  a 
female  attended  by  three  slaves ;  the  tenant  perhaps  of  this  ele- 
gant apartment.  Beside  her  was  a  round  plate  of  silver,  which 
probably  was  a  mirror,  together  with  several  golden  rings  set 
with  engraved  stones,  two  ear-rings,  and  five  bracelets  of  the 
same  metal. 

Both  cabinets  had  glazed  windows,  which  commanded  a 
view  of  the  court  and  of  each  other;  it  is  conjectured  that  they 
were  provided  with  curtains.  The  court  itself  presents  no  trace 
of  pavement,  and,  therefore,  probably  served  as  a  garden. 

The  ground  of  the  wall  is  black,  a  color  well  calculated  to 
set  off  doubtful  complexions  to  the  best  advantage,  while  its 
sombre  aspect  is  redeemed  by  a  profusion  of  gold-colored  orna- 
ment, in  the  most  elegant  taste.  The  columns  were  painted  with 
the  color  called  sinopis  PonfAcUm^  a  species  of  red  ochre  of  bril- 
liant tint.  Nearly  all  the  wall  of  the  court  between  the  cabinets 
is  occupied  by  a  large  painting  of  Actaeon,  from  which  the  house 
derives  one  of  its  names ;  on  either  side  it  is  flanked  by  the  repre- 
sentation of  a  statue  on  a  high  pedestal.  The  centre  piece  com- 
prises a  double  action.  In  one  part  we  see  a  rocky  grotto,  in 
which  Diana  was  bathing  when  the  unwary  hunter  made  his  ap- 
pearance above:  in  the  other  he  is  torn  by  his  own  dogs,  a  severe 
punishment  for  an  unintentional  intrusion.  The  background  rep- 
resents a  wild  and  mountainous  landscape.  A  painted  frieze, 
and  other  paintings  on  the  walls,  complete  the  decorations  of  the 
portico. 

The  large  apartment  was  a  triclinium  for  the  use  of  this 
portion  of  the  house,  where  the  place  of  the  table,  and  of  the  beds 
which  surrounded  it  on  three  sides,  was  marked  by  a  mosaic  pave- 
ment.    Over   the   left-hand   portico  there  was  a   terrace.      The 


ORNAMENTATION    AND    DRAPERIES.  93 

Space  marked  36  contained  the  stair  which  gave  access  to  it,  a 
stove  connected  probably  with  the  service  of  the  tricHnium  and 
other  conveniences. 

In  the  centre  room  is  the  opening  into  the  tabHnum,  which 
probably  was  only  separated  from  the  atrium  by  curtains  {^para- 
-peiasmata)^  which  might  be  drawn  or  undrawn  at  pleasure. 
Through  the  tablinum  the  pillars  of  the  peristyle  and  the  fountain 
painted  on  the  garden  wall  are  seen.  To  the  right  of  the  tab- 
linum is  the  fauces,  and  on  each  side  of  the  atrium  the  alae  are 
seen,  partly  shut  off,  like  the  tablinum,  by  handsome  draperies. 
The  nearer  doors  belong  to  chambers  which  open  into  the  atrium. 
Above  the  colored  courses  of  stucco  blocks  the  walls  are  painted 
in  the  light,  almost  Chinese  style  of  architecture,  which  is  so 
common,  and  a  row  of  scenic  masks  fills  the  place  of  a  cornice. 
The  ceiling  is  richly  fretted. 

The  compluvium  also  was  ornamented  with  a  row  of  tri- 
angular tiles  called  antefixes,  on  which  a  mask  or  some  other 
object  was  moulded  in  relief  Below,  lions'  heads  are  placed 
along  the  cornice  at  intervals,  forming  spouts  through  which  the 
water  was  discharged  into  the  impluvium  beneath.  Part  of  this 
cornice,  found  in  the  house  of  which  we  speak,  is  well  deserving 
our  notice,  because  it  contains,  within  itself,  specimens  of  three 
different  epochs  of  art,  at  which  we  must  suppose  the  house  was 
first  built,  and  subsequently  repaired. 

It  is  made  of  fine  clay,  with  a  lion's  head  moulded  upon  it, 
well  designed,  and  carefully  finished.  It  is  plain,  therefore,  that 
it  was  not  meant  to  be  stuccoed,  or  the  labor  bestowed  in  its 
execution  would  have  been  in  great  part  wasted.  At  a  later 
period  it  has  been  coated  over  with  the  finest  stucco,  and  addi- 
tional enrichments  and  mouldings  ha\'e  been  introduced,  yet  with- 
out injury  to  the  design  or  inferiority  in  the  workmanship; 
indicating  that  at  the  time  of  its  execution  the  original  simplicity 
of  art  had  given  way  to  a  more  enriched  and   elaborate  style  of 


O^  HOUSES  OF  PANSA  AND  SALLUST. 

ornament,  yet  without  any  perceptible   decay,  either  in  the  taste 
of  the  designer  or  the  skill  of  the  workman. 

Still  later  this  elegant  stucco  cornice  had  been  covered  with 
a  third  coating  of  the  coarsest  materials,  and  of  design  and  exe- 
cution most  barbarous,  when  it  is  considered  how  fine  a  model 
the  artists  had  before  their  eyes. 

hi  the  restoration,  the  impluvium  is  surrounded  with  a  mosaic 
border.  This  has  disappeared,  if  ever  there  was  one;  but  mosaics 
are  frequently  found  in  this  situation,  and  it  is,  therefore,  at  all 
events,  an  allowable  liberty  to  place  one  here,  in  a  house  so  dis- 
tin«ruished  for  the  richness  and  eles^ance  of  its  decorations. 

Beside  the  impluvium  stood  a  machine,  now  in  the  National 
Museum,  for  heating  water,  and  at  the  same  time  warming  the 
room  if  requisite.  The  high  circular  part,  with  the  lid  open,  is  a 
reservoir,  communicating  with  the  semi-circular  piece,  which  is 
hollow,  and  had  a  spout  to  discharge  the  heated  water.  The 
three  eagles  placed  on  it  are  meant  to  support  a  kettle.  The  char- 
coal was  contained  in  the  square  base. 

In  the  preceding  pages  we  have  taken  indiscriminately,  from 
all  quarters  of  the  town,  houses  of  all  classes,  from  the  smallest 
to  the  most  splendid,  in  the  belief  that  such  would  be  the  best 
way  of  showing  the  gradations  of  wealth  and  comfort,  the  dif- 
ferent styles  of  dwelling  adopted  by  different  classes  of  citizens,  in 
proportion  to  their  means.  It  would,  however,  be  manifestly  im- 
possible so  to  classify  all  the  houses  which  contain  something 
worthy  of  description,  and  we  shall,  therefore,  adopt  a  topographi- 
cal arrangement  as  the  simplest  one,  Commencing  at  the  Gate  of 
Herculaneum,  and  proceeding  in  as  regular  order  as  circum- 
stances will  permit  through  the  excavated  part  of  the  town. 

Most  of  the  houses  immediately  about  the  gate  appear  to 
have  been  small  inns  or  eating-houses,  probably  used  chiefly  by 
country  people,  who  came  into  market,  or  by  the  lower  order  of 
travelers.     Immediately  to   the  right  of  it,  however,    at  the   be- 


REMARKABLE    MANSIONS.  95 

ginning  of  the  street  called  the  Via  Consularis,  or  Domitiana, 
there  is  a  dwelling  of  a  better  class,  called  the  House  of  the 
Musician,  from  paintings  of  musical  instruments  which  ornamented 
the  walls.  Among  these  were  the  sistrum,  trumpet,  double  flute, 
and  others.  Upon  the  right  side  of  the  street,  however,  the 
buildings  soon  improve,  and  in  that  quarter  are  situated  some  of 
the  most  remarkable  mansions,  in  respect  of  extent  and  construc- 
tion, which  Pompeii  affords.  They  stand  in  part  upon  the  site  of 
the  walls  which  have  been  demolished  upon  this,  the  side  next 
the  port,  for  what  purpose  it  is  not  very  easy  to  say ;  not  to  make 
room  for  the  growth  of  the  city,  for  these  houses  stand  at  the 
very  limit  of  the  available  ground,  being  partly  built  upon  a 
steep  rock.  Hence,  besides  the  upper  floors,  which  have  perished, 
they  consist  each  of  two  or  three  stories,  one  below  another,  so 
that  the  apartments  next  the  street  are  always  on  the  highest 
level.  Those  who  are  familiar  with  the  metropolis  of  Scotland 
will  readily  call  to  mind  a  similar  mode  of  construction  very 
observable  on  the  north  side  of  the  High  Street,  where  the 
ground-floor  is  sometimes  situated  about  the  middle  of  the  house. 
One  of  the  most  remarkable  of  these  houses  contains  three 
stories;  the  first,  level  with  the  street,  contains  the  public  part  of 
the  house,  the  vestibule,  atrium,  and  tablinum,  which  opens  upon 
a  spacious  terrace.  Beside  these  is  the  peristyle  and  other  private 
apartments,  at  the  back  of  which  the  terrace  of  which  we  have 
just  spoken  offers  an  agreeable  walk  for  the  whole  breadth  of  the 
house,  and  forms  the  roof  of  a  spacious  set  of  apartments  at  a 
lower  level,  which  are  accessible  either  by  a  sloping  passage  from 
the  street,  running  under  the  atrium,  or  by  a  staircase  communi- 
cating with  the  peristyle.  This  floor  contains  baths,  a  triclinium, 
a  spacious  saloon,  and  other  rooms  necessar}"  for  the  private  use 
of  a  family.  Behind  these  rooms  is  another  terrace,  which  over- 
looks a  spacious  court  surrounded  by  porticoes,  and  containing  a 
piscina  or  reservoir  in  the  centre.     The  pillars  on  the  side  next 


^6  HOUSES  OF  PANSA  AND  SALLUST. 

the  house  are  somewhat  higher  than  on  the  other  three  sides,  so 
as  to  give  the  terraee  there  a  greater  elevation.  Below^  this 
second  story  there  is  yet  a  third,  in  part  under  ground,  which 
contains  another  set  of  baths,  and,  besides  apartments  for  other 
purposes,  the  lodging  of  the  slaves.  This  was  divided  into  little 
ceils,  scarcely  the  length  of  a  man,  dark  and  damp;  and  we  can 
not  enter  into  it  without  a  lively  feeling  of  the  wretched  state  to 
which  these  beings  were  reduced. 

A  few  steps  further  on  the  same  side,  is  another  house  some- 
what of  the  same  description,  which  evidently  belonged  to  some 
man  of  importance,  probably  to  Julius  Polybius,  whose  name  has 
been  found  in  several  inscriptions.  Fragments  of  richly-gilt 
stucco-work  enable  us  to  estimate  the  richness  of  its  decoration 
and  the  probable  wealth  of  its  owner.  It  will  be  readily  distin- 
guished by  its  immense  Corinthian  atrium,  or  rather  perist3'le. 
It  has  the  further  peculiarity  of  having  two  vestibules  each  com- 
municating with  the  street  and  with  the  atrium.  The  portico  of 
the  atrium  is  formed  by  arcades  and  piers,  ornamented  with  at- 
tached columns,  the  centre  being  occupied  by  a  court  and  foun- 
tain. These  arcades  appear  to  be  enclosed  by  windows.  Square 
holes,  worked  in  the  marble  coping  of  a  dwarf  wall  which  sur- 
rounds the  little  court,  were  perfectly  distinguishable,  and  it  is 
concluded  that  they  were  meant  to  receive  the  window-frames. 

Pliny  the  Younger  describes  a  similar  glazed  portico  at  his 
Laurentine  villa ;  and  an  antique  painting,  representing  the  baths 
of  Faustina,  gives  the  view  of  a  portico,  the  apertures  of  which 
are  entirely  glazed,  as  we  suppose  them  to  have  been  here.  The 
portico,  and  three  apartments  which  communicate  with  it,  were 
pa^•cd  in  mosaic.  Attached  to  one  of  the  corner  piers  there  is  a 
fountain.  The  kitchen  and  other  apartments  were  below  this 
floor.  There  was  also  an  upper  story,  as  is  clear  from  the  re- 
mains of  stair-cases.  This  house  extends  to  the  point  at  which  a 
by-street  turns  away  from  the  main  road  to  the  Forum.     We 


HOUSE    OF    THE    VESTALS. 


97 


will  now  return  to  the  gate,  to  describe  the  triangular  island  of 
houses  which  bounds  the  main  street  on  the  eastern  side. 

That  close  to  the  gate,  called  the  House  of  the  Triclinium, 
derives  its  name  from  a  large  triclinium  in  the  centre  of  the  peri- 
style, which  is  spacious  and  handsome,  and  bounded  by  the  city 
walls.  The  House  of  the  Vestals  is  a,  little  further  on.  What 
claim  it  has  to  this  title,  except  by  the  rule  of  contraries,  we  are 
at  a  loss  to  guess;  seeing  that  the  style  of  its  decorations  is  very 
far  from  corresponding  with  that  purity  of  thought  and  manners 
which  we  are  accustomed  to  associate  with  the  title  of  vestal. 
The  paintings  are  numerous  and  beautiful,  and  the  mosaics  re- 
markably fine.  Upon  the  threshold  here,  as  in  several  other 
houses,  we  find  the  word  "  Salve"  (Welcome),  worked  in  mosaic. 
One  may  be  seen  in  cut  on  page  30. 

We  enter  by  a  vestibule,  divided  into  three  compartments, 
and  ornamented  with  four  attached  columns,  which  introduces  us 
to  an  atrium,  fitted  up  in  the  usual  manner,  and  surrounded  by 
the  usual  apartments.  The  most  remarkable  of  these  is  a  tricli- 
nium, which  formerly  was  richly  paved  with  glass  mosaics. 
Hence  we  pass  into  the  private  apartments,  which  are  thus  de- 
scribed by  Bonucci: — "This  house  seems  to  have  been  originally 
two  separate  houses,  afterwards,  probably,  bought  by  some  rich 
man,  and  thrown  into  one.  After  traversing  a  little  court,  around 
which  are  the  sleeping  chambers,  and  that  destined  to  business^ 
we  hastened  to  render  our  visit  to  the  Penates.  We  entered  the 
pantry,  and  rendered  back  to  the  proprietors  the  greeting  that^ 
from  the  threshold  of  this  mansion,  they  still  direct  to  strangers.. 
We  next  passed  through  the  kitchen  and  its  dependencies.  The- 
corn-mills  seemed  waiting  for  the  accustomed  hands  to  grind  with, 
them,  after  so  many  years  of  repose.  Oil  standing  in  glass  ves- 
sels, chestnuts,  dates,  raisins,  and  figs,  in  the  next  chamber,  an- 
nounce  the  provision  for  the  approaching  winter,  and  large  am- 
phorae of  wine  recall  to  us  the  consulates  of  Caesar  and  of  Cicero. 

7 


98 


HOUSES    OF    PANSA    AND    SALLUST. 


"We  entered  the  private  apartment.  Magnificent  porticoes 
are  to  be  seen  around  it.  Numerous  beautiful  columns  covered 
with  stucco,  and  with  very  fresh  colors,  surrounded  a  very  agree- 
able garden,  a  pond,  and  a  bath.  Elegant  paintings,  delicate 
ornaments,  stags,  sphinxes,  wild  and  fanciful  flowers  everywhei'e 
cover  the  walls.  The  cabinets  of  3^oung  girls,  and  their  toilets, 
with  appropriate  paintings,  are  disposed  along  the  sides.     In  this 


BROOCHES  OF  GOLD  FOUND  AT  POMPEII. 


last  were  found  a  great  quantity  of  female  ornaments,  such  as  seen 
in  the  cut,  and  others,  and  the  skeleton  of  a  little  dog.  At  the 
extremity  is  seen  a  semicircular  room  adorned  with  niches,  and 
formerly  with  statues,,  mosaics,  and  marbles.  An  altar,  on  which 
the  sacred  fire  burned  perpetually,  rose  in  the  centre.  This  is 
the  sacyariitni.  In  this  secret  and  sacred  place  the  most  solemn 
and  memorable  days  of  the  family  were  spent  in  rejoicing;  and 
here,  on  birthdays,  sacrifices  were  offered  to  Juno,  or  the  Genius, 
i:he  protector  c-'i  the  new-born  child." 


SURGICAL    AND    OTHER    INSTRUMENTS.  99 

The  next  house  is  called  the  House  of  a  Surgeon,  because  a 
variety  of  surgical  instruments  were  found  in  it.  In  number  they 
amounted  to  forty ;  some  resembled  instruments  still  in  use,  others 
are  different  from  anything  employed  by  modern  surgeons.  In 
many  the  description  of  Celsus  is  realized,  as,  for  instance,  in  the 
specillum,  or  probe,  which  is  concave  on  one  side  and  flat  on  the 
other;  the  scalper  excisorius,  in  the  shape  of  a  lancet-point  on  one 
side  and  of  a  mallet  on  the  other;  a  hook  and  forceps,  used  in 
obstetrical  practice.  The  latter  are  said  to  equal  in  the  con- 
venience and  ingenuity  of  their  construction  the  best  efforts  of 
modern  cutlers.  Needles,  cutting  compasses  (circini  excisorii), 
and  other  instruments  were  found,  all  of  the  purest  brass  with 
bronze  handles,  and  usually  enclosed  in  brass  or  boxwood  cases. 

There  is  nothing  remarkable  in  the  house  itself,  which  con- 
tains the  usual  apartments,  atrium,  peristyle,  etc.,  except  the 
paintings.  These  consist  chiefly  of  architectural  designs,  combi- 
nations of  golden  and  bronze-colored  columns  placed  in  perspec- 
tive, surmounted  by  rich  architraves,  elaborate  friezes,  and 
decorated  cornices,  one  order  above  another.  Intermixed  are 
arabesque  ornaments,  grotesque  paintings,  and  compartments  with 
figures,  all  apparently  employed  in  domestic  occupations. 

One  of  them  represents  a  female  figure  carrying  rolls  of 
papyrus  to  a  man  who  is  seated  and  intently  reading.  The  method 
of  reading  these  rolls  or  volumes,  which  were  written  in  trans- 
verse columns  across  the  breadth  of  the  pap3^rus,  is  clearly  shown 
here.  Behind  him  a  young  woman  is  seated,  playing  on  the  harp. 
All  these  figures  are  placed  under  the  light  architectural  designs 
above  described,  which  seem  intended  to  surmount  a  terracCo  It 
is  a  common  practice  at  the  present  day  in  Italy,  especially  near 
Naples,  to  construct  light  treillages  on  the  tops  of  the  houses, 
where  the  inhabitants  enjoy  the  evening  breeze,  al  fresco,  in  the 
same  way  as  is  represented  in  these  paintings. 

The  peristyle  is  small,  but  in  good   preservation.     Its  inter- 


too 


HOUSES  OF  PANSA  AND  SALLUST. 


SCALES   FOUND   AT   POMPEII. 


columniations  are  tilled  up  by  a  dwarf  wall  painted  red,  the  lower 
part  of  the  columns  being  painted  blue.  This  house  runs  through 
the  island  from  one   street   to  the   other.     Adjoining  it,  on  the 

south,  is  the  custom-house, 
telonimn.  Here  a  wide  en- 
trance admits  us  into  an  am- 
ple chamber,  where  many 
scales  were  found,  and  among 
them  a  steelyard,  statera^ 
much  resembling  those  now 
in  use,  but  more  richly  and 
tastefully  ornamented. 

Many  weights  of  lead  and 
marble  were  found  here ;  one 
with  the  inscription,  "  Eme 
et  habcbis "  (Buy  and  you 
shall  have),  also  scales.  Near  the  custom-house  is  a  soap  manu- 
factory. In  the  first  room  were  heaps  of  lime,  the  admirable 
quality  of  which  has  excited  the  wonder  of  modern  plasterers. 
In  an  inner  room  are  the-  soap-vats,  placed  on  a .  level  with  the 
ground. 

Besides  these,  the  block  contains  three  houses  which  have 
been  distinguished  by  names,  the  House  of  Isis  and  Osiris,  the 
House  of  Narcissus,  and  the  House  of  the  Female  Dancers.  Of 
these  the  latter  is  remarkable  for  the  beauty  of  the  paintings 
which  adorn  its  Tuscan  atrium. 

Among  them  are  four  very  elegant  figures  of  female  dancers, 
from  which  the  name  given  to  the  house  is  taken.  Another  rep- 
resents a  figure  reposing  on  the  border  of  a  clear  lake,  surrounded 
by  villas  and  palaces,  on  the  bosom  of  which  a  flock  of  ducks 
and  wild-fowl  are  swimming.  The  house  of  Narcissus  is  dis- 
tinguished by  the  elegance  of  its  peristyle;  the  inter-columnia- 
tions  are  filled  up  by  a  dwarf  wall,  which  is  hollowed  at  the  top, 


SHOP    OF    AN    APOTHECARY.  lOI 

probably  to  receive  earth  for  the  cultivation  of  select  flowers. 
Our  materials  do  net  admit  of  a  fuller  description  of  the  houses 
in  this  quarter. 

Passing  onwards  from  the  House  of  Sallust,  the  next  island 
to  the  south,  separated  from  it  by  a  narrow  lane,  affords  nothing 
remarkable,  except  the  shop  of  a  baker,  to  the  details  of  which, 
in  conjunction  with  the  art  of  dyeing,  we  purpose  to  devote  a 
separate  chapter.  It  is  terminated  in  a  sharp  point  by  the  foun- 
tain before  mentioned.  The  disposition  of  the  streets  and  houses 
everywhere  is  most  unsymmetrical,  but  here  it  is  remarkably  so, 
even  for  Pompeii.  Just  by  the  house  with  the  double  vestibule 
the  main  street  divides  into  two,  inclined  to  each  other  at  a  very 
acute  angle,  which  form,  together  with  a  third  cross  street  of 
more  importance,  called  the  Strada  delle  Terme,  or  Street  of  the 
Baths,  another  small  triangular  island. 

The  house  of  the  apex  was  an  apothecary's  shop.  A  great 
many  drugs,  glasses,  and  vials  of  the  most  singular  forms,  were 
found  here ;  in  some  of  the  latter  fluids  were  yet  remaining.  In 
particular  one  large  glass  vase  is  to  be  mentioned,  capable  of 
holding  two  gallons,  in  which  was  a  gallon  and  a  half  of  a  reddish 
liquid,  said  to  be  balsam.  On  being  opened,  the  contents  began 
to  evaporate  very  fast,  and  it  was,  therefore,  closed  hermetically. 
About  an  inch  in  depth  of  the  contents  has  been  thus  lost,  leaving 
on  the  sides  of  the  vessel  a  sediment,  reaching  up  to  the  level  to 
which  it  was  formerly  filled.  The  right-hand  street  leads  to 
buildings  entirely  in  ruins,  the  left-hand  one,  which  is  a  continua- 
tion of  the  Via  Consularis,  or  Domitiana,  conducts  us  towards 
the  Forum. 

Immediately  to  the  eastward  of  the  district  just  described  is 
the  House  of  Pansa,  which  occupies  a  whole  block.  The  block 
between  it  and  the  city  walls,  on  the  north,  offers  nothing  remark- 
able. Beyond,  still  to  the  east,  is  a  block  separated  from  it  by  a 
narrow  street,  called  the  Via  della  Fullonica,  and  bounded  on  the 


I02 


HOUSES    OF    PANSA    AND    SALLUST, 


Other  side  by  the  Street  ol  Mercur}-,  which  runs  in  a  straight  Hne 
from  the  walls  nearl}'  to  the  Forum.  This  block  contains,  besides 
several  private  houses  of  great  beauty,  the  FuUonica,  or  estab- 
lishment for  the  fulling  and  dyeing  of  woolen  cloths.  This,  to- 
gether with  the  bake-house  above  mentioned,  will  be  describes 
further  on. 


<''^^^^ 


j-foUgE   OF  J4oLCONIUp. 


Passing  on  the  insula  or  block,  bounded  on  the  north  by  the 
Street  of  Holconius,  on  the  south  by  the  Street  of  Isis,  on  the  west 
by  the  Street  of  the  Theatres,  and  on  the  east  by  that  of  Stabise, 
we  find  two  remarkable  houses  excavated  within  the  last  few 
years.  That  at  the  northern  corner  of  the  street  of  the  Theatres, 
numbered  4  on  the  entrance,  is  sometimes  called  the  House  of 
Holconius.  The  two  stores  which  precede  it,  numbered  2  and  3, 
seem  to  have  been  the  property  of  the  master  of  the  house,  and 
communicate  with  each  other.  A  third  shop,  numbered  i,  at 
the  angle  of  the  street,  appears  to  have  been  occupied  by  a  dyer, 
and  is  called  Taberna  Oftectoris.  On  the  front  of  the  house  were 
some  inscriptions  for  electioneering  purposes. 

The  pilasters  on  either  side  of  the  main  entrance  are  painted 
red  to  about  the  height  of  a  man,  beyond  which  they  are  of  white 
plaster.  On  entering  the  prothyrum  may  be  observed  a  large 
hole  in  the  wall,  destined  for  the  reception  of  the  repagulum^  or 
strong'wooden  bar  with  which  the  door  was  secured.  The  door 
appears,  from  the  places  for  bolts  on  the  threshold,  to  have  been 
composed  af  two  pieces  (bifora).  The  walls  of  the  prothyrum 
are  painted  black,  with  a  red  podium,  divided  into  three  com- 
partments by  green  and  yellow  lines,  in  the  middle  of  which  are 
an  aquatic  bird,  perhaps  an  ibis^  a  swan  with  spread  wings,  and 
an  ornament  that  can  not  be  made  out.  Towards  the  top  the 
walls  are  painted  with  fantastic  pieces  of  architecture  on  a  white 
ground;  amidst  which,  on  one  side,  is  a  nymph  descending  appar- 

103 


I04 


HOUSE    OF    HOLCONIUS. 


ently  from  heaven.  She  has  a  golden-colored  vest,  o?  ^/ 
shoulders  is  a  veil  agitated  by  the  breeze,  and  she  bears  in  her 
hand  a  large  dish  filled  with  fruits  and  herbs.  On  the  other  side 
was  a  similar  figure,  playing  on  the  lyre,  with  a  sky-blue  vest  and 
rose-colored  veil  that  fluttered  about  her.  The  remaining  archie 
tectural  paintings  contained  little  winged  Cupids,  one  holding  a 
cornucopia,  another  a  drum,  and  two  with  baskets  of  fruits  and 
flowers.  These  were  the  good  geniuses,  which,  by  being  depict- 
ed at  the  entrance  of  a  house,  repelled  all  evil  influences  and  ren- 
dered it  a  joyful  abode. 

The  pavement  of  the  Tuscan  atrium  is  variegated  with  small 
pieces  of  white  marble  placed  in  rows.  The  impluvium  in  the 
middle  appears  to  have  been  undei  repair,  as  it  is  stripped  of  its 
marble  lining.  The  walls  of  the  atrium  are  painted  red,  with 
vertical  black  zones  like  pilasters,  or  antes ^  besides  lines  and  orna- 
ments of  various  colors.  On  the  wall  to  the  left  of  the  entrance 
is  painted  a  recumbent  Silenus,  crowned  with  ivy,  and  pressing 
in  his  arms  the  little  Bacchus,  who  in  alarm  is  endeavoring  to  es- 
cape from  his  embraces.  Near  it,  on  a  yellow  ground,  is  the 
bearded  head  of  a  man,  with  two  claws  projecting  from  his 
temples  like  horns,  and  a  beard  floating  as  if  it  was  in  the  water. 
It  may  probably  be  a  mask  of  Oceanus,  who  is  represented  on 
coins  of  Agrigentum  in  a  somewhat  similar  manner.  Under  the 
head  is  the  figure  of  a  hippocampus. 

Many  objects  were  found  in  this  atrium,  some  at  the  height 
of  four  or  five  yards  from  the  floor,  which  must  consequently 
have  fallen  in  from  the  upper  stories ;  and  others  on  the  pavement 
itself.  But  one  of  the  most  important  discoveries  was  the  skele- 
ton of  a  woman,  near  the  entrance  of  the  tablinum.  She  appears 
to  have  been  in  the  act  of  flight,  and  had  with  her  a  small  box 
containing;  her  valuables  and  nick-nacks.  Amonof  the  most 
curious  of  these  was  a  necklace  composed  of  amulets,  or  charms, 
which,  it  will  be  observed,  are  all  attributes  of  Isis  and  her  at- 


DECORATIONS    OF    THE    BED-CHAMBERS. 


105 


tendant,  Anubis,  or  of  her  husband  Osiris,  here  considered  as 
Bacchus.  The  mystic  articles  kept  in  the  Isiac  coffer  were,  says 
Eusebius,  a  ball,  dice,  (turbo)  wheel,  mirror,  lock  of  wool. 

The  first  bed-chamber  on  the  right  of  the  atrium  communi- 
cated with  the  store  No.  3,  and  was  probably  occupied  by  the 


WALL  PAINTING  DISCOVERED  AT  POMPEII. 


slave  who  conducted  the  business  of  it.     The  first  bed-chamber 
on  the  left  had  a  similar  communication  with  the  store  outside 

There  are  few  houses  in  Pompeii  in  which  the  paintings  are 
more  numerous  or  better  preserved  than  in  that  which  we  are  ex- 
amining. The  second  bed-chamber  on  the  right  has  several.  In 
this  room  ma}^  be  observed  a  space  hollowed  in  the  wall  to  re- 
ceive the  foot  of  a  bed  or  coutch.       The  walls  are  white,  with 


Io6  HOUSE    OF    HOLCONIUS. 

a  red  podium,  and  are  surmounted  by  a  cornice  from  which 
springs  the  vault.  The  upper  part  is  painted  with  Hues,  be- 
tween which  are  depicted  griffins  in  repose,  baskets  with  thyrsi, 
branches  of  herbs,  and  other  objects. 

The  lower  part  of  the  walls  is  divided  into  larger  compart- 
ments by  candelabra  supporting  little  globes.  In  each  compart- 
ment are  eight  small  pictures,  representing  the  heads  and  busts 
of  Bacchic  personages,  in  a  very  good  state  of  preservation.  On 
the  left  is  Bacchus,  crowned  with  ivy,  his  head  covered  with  the 
mitra^  a  sort  of  veil  of  fine  texture  which  descends  upon  his  left 
shoulder.  This  ornament,  as  well  as  the  cast  of  his  features,  re- 
veals the  half  feminine  natui'e  of  the  deity.  Opposite  to  him  is 
the  picture  of  Ariadne,  also  crowned  with  ivy,  clothed  in  a  green 
chiton  and  a  violet  hi  mat  ion.  She  presses  to  her  bosom  the  in- 
fant lacchus,  crowned  with  the  eternal  ivy,  and  bearing- in  his 
hand  the  th}Tsus.  Then  follow  Bacchic  or  Panic  figures,  some 
conversing,  some  drinking  together,  some  moving  apparently  in 
the  mazes  of  the  dance.  Paris,  with  the  Phrygian  cap  and  crook, 
seems  to  preside  over  this  voluptuous  scene,  and  to  listen  to  a 
little  Cupid  seated  on  his  shoulder. 

In  the  chamber  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  atrium,  fronting 
that  just  described,  were  also  four  pictures,  two  of  which  are 
destroyed,  the  walls  having  apparently  been  broken  through,  not 
long  after  the  destruction  of  Pompeii,  by  persons  in  search  ol 
their  buried  property.  Of  the  other  two,  which  are  almost 
effaced,  one  represents  an  aged  Faun,  holding  in  his  hands  a 
thyrsus  and  a  vase;  the  other  a  young  woman  conversing  with 
an  African  slave.  A  wooden  chest  seems  to  have  stood  close  to 
the  left-hand  wall. 

The  left  ala,  or  wing,  has  its  walls  painted  in  yellow  and 
red  compartments,  with  a  black  podium.  In  the  middle  of  each 
was  a  valuable  painting,  but  these,  with  the  exception  of  the 
greater  part  of  one    fronting  the  entrance,    have    been    almost 


PERSEUS    AND    ANDROMEDA.  IO7 

destroyed.  The  one  saved  represents  Apollo,  who  has  over- 
taken Daphne,  and  is  clasping  her  in  his  arms,  while  the  nymph, 
who  has  fallen  on  her  knees,  repels  the  embraces  of  the  deit}-.  A 
malicious  little  Cupid,  standing  on  tiptoes,  draws  aside  the  golden- 
tissued  veil  which  covered  the  nymph,  and  displays  her  naked 
form.  On  the  left  of  the  same  apartment  is  a  picture,  almost 
effaced,  of  Perseus  and  Andromeda;  and  on  the  right  another 
with  three  male  figures,  of  which  only  the  lower  part  remains. 

The  right  ala^  which,  however,  from  its  capability  of  being 
closed  with  a  door,  does  not  properly  come  under  that  denomina- 
tion, seems,  from  various  culinary  utensils  of  metal  and  earthen- 
ware found  in  it,  to  have  served  as  a  kitchen,  or  rather  perhaps 
as  a  store-closet. 

The  tablinum,  opposite  the  entrance,  and,  as  usual,  without 
any  enclosure  on  the  side  of  the  atrium,  has  a  small  marble 
threshold,  and  on  its  floor  little  squares  of  colored  marbles  sur- 
rounded with  a  mosaic  border.  The  yellow  walls,  divided  into 
compartments  by  vertical  stripes  of  red,  white,  and  black,  were 
beautifully  ornamented  with  the  usual  architectural  designs  and 
flying  figures.  On  each  side  were  two  larger  pictures,  of  which 
only  that  on  the  left  of  the  spectator  remains.  It  represents  Leda 
showing  to  Tyndareus  a  nest  containing  the  two  boys  produced 
from  the  ^^^.  A  stucco  cornice  runs  round  the  wall,  above 
which  a  flying  nymph  is  painted  on  a  white  ground,  between  two 
balconies,  from  which  a  man  and  woman  are  looking  down. 
There  are  also  figures  of  sphinxes,  goats,  etc. 

A  wooden  staircase  on  the  left  of  the  tablinum,  the  first  step 
being  of  stone,  led  to  the  floor  above.  On  the  right  is  the  pas- 
sage called  fauces^  leading  to  the  peristyle.  On  its  left-hand  side, 
near  the  ground,  was  a  rudely  traced  figure  of  a  gladiator,  with 
an  inscription  above,  of  which  only  the  first  letters,  PRIMI,  re- 
main. On  the  left  wall  of  the  fauces,  near  the  extremity,  and 
level  with  the  eye,  is  another  inscription,  or  graffito^  in  small  char- 


Io8  HOUSE    OF    HOLCONIUS. 

acters,  difficult  to  be  deciphered  from  the  unusual  nexus  of  the 
letters,  but  which  the  learned  have  supposed  to  express  the  design 
of  an  invalid  to  get  rid  of  the  pains  in  his  limbs  by  bathing  them 
in  water. 

At  the  extremity  of  \}c\e.  fauces^  on  the  right,  there  is  an  en- 
trance to  a  room  which  has  also  another  door  leading  into  the 
portico  of  the  peristyle.  The  walls  are  painted  black  and  red, 
and  in  the  compartments  are  depicted  birds,  animals,  fruits,  etc. 
Two  skeletons  were  found  in  this  room.  In  the  apartment  to  the 
left,  or  east  of  the  tablinum,  of  which  the  destination  can  not  be 
certainly  determined,  the  walls  are  also  painted  black,  with  arch- 
itectural designs  in  the  middle,  and  figures  of  winged  Cupids 
variously  employed.  On  the  larger  walls  are  two  paintings,  of 
which  that  on  the  right  represents  the  often-repeated  subject  of 
Ariadne,  who,  just  awakened  from  sleep,  and  supported  by  a  fe- 
male figure  with  wings,  supposed  to  be  Nemesis,  views  with  an 
attitude  of  grief  and  stupor  the  departing  ship  of  Theseus,  already 
far  from  Naxos.  On  the  left  side  is  a  picture  of  Phryxus,  cross- 
ing the  sea  on  the  ram  and  stretching  out  his  arms  to  Helle,  who 
has  fallen  over  and  appears  on  the  point  of  drowning.  The  form 
of  this  chamber,  twice  as  long  as  it  is  broad,  its  vicinity  tj  the 
kitchen,  and  the  window,  through  which  the  slaves  might  easily 
convey  the  viands,  appear  to  show  that  it  was  a  triclinium,  or 
dining-room. 

The  floor,  which  is  lower  by  a  step  than  the  peristyle,  is 
paved  with  opus  Sis^ninum^  and  ornamented  only  at  one  end  with 
a  mosaic.  On  one  of  the  walls,  about  ten  feet  from  the  floor,  is 
\\\^  graffito^  Sodales  Avete  (Welcome  Comrades),  which  could 
have  been  inscribed  there  only  by  a  person,  probably  a  slave, 
mounted  on  a  bench  or  a  ladder. 

The  viridarium,  or  xystus,  surrounded  with  spacious  porti- 
coes, was  once  filled  with  the  choicest  flowers,  and  refreshed  by 
the  grateful  murmur  of  two  fountains.     One  of  these  in  the  mid- 


EPIGRAPHS    AND    INSCRIPTIONS. 


109 


die  of  the  peristyle  is  square,  having  in  its  centre  a  sort  of  round 
table  from  which  the  water  gushed  forth.  The  other  fountain, 
which  faces  the  tablinum,  is  composed  of  a  little  marble  staircase, 
surmounted  by  the  statue  of  a  boy  having  in  his  right  hand  a 
vase  from  which  the  water  spirted,  and  under  his  left  arm  a 
goose.     The  statue  is  rather  damaged. 

Many  objects  were  found  in  the  peristyle,  mostly  of  the  kind 
usually  discovered  in  Pompeian  houses.  Among  them  was  an 
amphora,  having  the  following  epigraph  in  black  paint  : 

COUM.  GRAN. 

OF. 

ROMyE.  ATERIO.  FELICI. 

which  has  been  interpreted  to  mean  that  it  contained  Coan  wine 
flavored  with  pomegranate,  and  that  it  came  from  Rome,  from 
the  stores  of  Aterius  Felix. 

The  portico  is  surrounded  by  strong  columns,  and  seems  to 
have  had  a  second  order  resting  on  the  first,  as  may  be  inferred 
from  some  indications  to  the  right  of  >im  who  enters  from  the 
fauces.  The  walls  are  painted  red  and  black,  with  architectural 
designs,  candelabra,  meanders,  birds,  winged  Cupids,  etc.  There 
are  also  fourteen  small  pictures  enclosed  in  red  lines,  eight  of 
which  represent  landscapes  and  sea-shores,  with  fishermen,  and 
the  other  six  fruits  and  eatables.  On  the  wall  on  the  right  side 
is  the  following  graffito^  or  inscription,  scratched  with  some  sharp 
instrument : 

IIX.  ID.  IVL.  AXVNGIA.  PCC. 
ALIV.  MANVPLOS.  CCL. 

That  is:  "On  the  25th  July,  hog's  lard,  two  hundred  pounds. 
Garlic,  two  hundred  bunches."  It  seems,  therefore,  to  be  a  do- 
mestic memorandum  of  articles  either  bought  or  sold. 

Around  the  portico  are  several  rooms,  all  having  marble 
thresholds,  and  closed  by  doors  turning  on  bronze  hinges.     On 


no  HOUSE    OF    HOLCONIUS. 

the  right  hand  of  the  peristyle,  near  the  entrance,  is  a  private  door, 
or  posiiciim^  leading  into  the  Street  of  the  Theatres,  by  which  the 
master  of  the  house  might  escape  his  importunate  clients. 

The  rooms  at  the  sides  of  the  peristyle  offer  nothing  remark- 
able, but  the  three  chambers  opposite  to  the  tablinum  are  of  con- 
siderable size,  and  contain  some  good  pictures.  The  first  on  the 
right  has  two  figures  of  Nereids  traversing  the  sea,  one  on  a  sea- 
bull  the  other  on  a  hippocampus.  Both  the  monsters  are  guided 
by  a  Cupid  with  reins  and  whip,  and  followed  by  dolphins. 
Another  painting  opposite  the  entrance  is  too  much  effaced  to  be 
made  out.  The  same  wall  has  a  feature  not  observed  in  any  other 
Pompeian  house,  namely,  a  square  aperture  of  rather  more  than 
a  foot  reaching  down  to  the  floor,  and  opening  upon  an  enclosed 
place  with  a  canal  or  drain  for  carrying  off  the  water  of  the  ad 
joining  houses.  It  seems  also  to  have  been  a  receptacle  foi 
lamps,  several  of  which  were  found  there. 

Adjoining  this  room  is  a  large  exedra  with  a  little  im-pluvium 
in  the  middle,  which  seems  to  indicate  an  aperture  in  the  roof,  a 
construction  hitherto  found  only  in  atria.  The  absence  of  any 
channels  in  the  floor  for  conducting  water  seems  to  show  that  it 
could  not  have  been  a  fountain.  This  exedra  is  remarkable  for 
its  paintings.  .In  the  wall  in  front  is  depicted  Narcissus  with  a 
javelin  in  his  hand,  leaning  over  a  rock  and  admiring  himself  in 
the  water,  in  which  his  image  is  reflected;  but  great  part  of  the 
painting  is  destroyed.  A  little  Cupid  is  extinguishing  his  torch 
in  the  stream.  In  the  background  is  a  building  with  an  image 
of  the  bearded  Bacchus;  and  near  it  a  terminal  figure  of  Priapus 
Ithyphallicus,  with  grapes  and  other  fruits.  This  picture  was 
much  damaged  in  the  process  of  excavation. 

On  the  left  wall  is  a  painting  of  a  naked  Hermaphroditus. 
In  his  right  hand  is  a  little  torch  reversed;  his  left  arm  rests  on 
the  shoulders  of  Silenus,  who  appears  to  accompany  his  songs  on 
the  lyre,  whilst  a  winged  Cupid  sounds  the  double  flute.     On  the 


ARIADNK    DISCOVERED    BY    BACCHUS.  I  1  I 

other  side  is  a  Bacchante  with   a  thyrsus  and  tambourine,  and 
near  her  a  little  Satyr,  who  also  holds  a  torch  reversed. 

But  the  best  picture  in  this  apartment  is  that  representing 
Ariadne  discovered  by  Bacchus.  A  youthful  figure  with  wings, 
supposed  to  represent  Sleep,  stands  at  Ariadne's  head,  and  seems 
to  indicate  that  she  is  under  his  influence.  Meanwhile  a  little 
Faun  lifts  the  veil  that  covers  her,  and  with  an  attitude  indicating 
surprise  at  her  beauty,  turns  to  Bacchus  and  seems  to  invite  him 
to  contemplate  her  charms.  The  deity  himself,  crowned  with  ivy 
and  berries,  clothed  in  a  short  tunic  and  a  pallium  agitated  by 
the  breeze,  holds  in  his  right  hand  the  thyrsus,  and  lifts  his  left  in 
token  of  admiration.  In  the  background  a  Bacchante  sounds  her 
tympanum,  and  invites  the  followers  of  the  god  to  descend  from 
the  mountains.  These,  preceded  by  Silenus,  obey  the  summons; 
one  is  playing  the  double  flute,  another  sounding  the  cymbals,  a 
third  bears  on  her  head  a  basket  of  fruit.  A  Faun  and  a  Bac- 
chante, planted  on  a  mountain  on  the  left,  survey  the  scene  from 
a  distance. 

The  adjoining  triclinium,  entered  by  a  door  from  the  exedra, 
had  also  three  paintings,  one  of  which  however  is  almost  destroyed. 
Of  the  remaining  two,  that  on  the  left  represents  Achilles  dis- 
covered by  Ulysses  among  the  damsels  of  Lycomedes.  The  sub- 
ject of  that  on  the  right  is  the  Judgment  of  Paris.  It  is  more 
remarkable  for  its  spirit  and  coloring  than  for  the  accuracy  of  its 
drawing.  This  apartment  has  also  six  medallions  with  heads  of 
Bacchic  personages. 

In  the  same  block  as  the  house  just  described,  and  having 
its  entrance  in  the  same  street,  stands  the  house  of  Cornelius 
Rufus.  It  is  a  handsome  dwelling,  but  as  its  plan  and  decora- 
tions have  nothing  to  distinguish  them  from  other  Pompeian 
houses,  we  forbear  to  describe  them.  The  only  remarkable  fea- 
ture in  this  excavation  was  the  discovery  of  a  Hermes  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  atrium  on  the  left,  on  which  was  a  marble  bust  of  the 


112  HOUSE    OF    HOLCONIUS. 

owner,  as  large  as  life  and  well  executed,  having  his  name  in- 
scribed beneath. 

Not  far  from  the  houses  just  described,  in  the  Street  of 
Stabise,  at  the  angle  formed  by  the  street  leading  to  the  amphi- 
theatre, stands  the  House  of  Apollo  Citharoedus,  excavated  in 
1864.  It  derives  its  name  from  a  fine  bronze  statue,  as  large  as 
life,  of  Apollo  sounding  the  lyre,  which  was  found  there,  but  has 
now  been  placed  in  the  Museum  at  Naples.  In  this  house  the 
tablinum  and  a  peristyle  beyond  are  on  a  higher  level  than  the 
atrium ;  consequently  the  fauces^  or  passage  leading  to  the  latter, 
ascends.  In  the  peristyle  is  a  semicircular  fountain,  on  the  mar- 
gin of  which  were  disposed  several  animals  in  bronze,  represent- 
ing a  hunting  scene.  In  the  centre  was  a  wild  boar  in  flight  at- 
tacked by  two  dogs  ;  at  the  sides  were  placed  a  lion,  a  stag,  and 
a  serpent.  These  animals,  arranged  in  the  same  way  in  which 
they  were  found,  are  now  preserved  in  the  Museum. 

Adjoining  the  House  of  Lucretius  are  several  stores.  That 
next  door  but  one  appears  to  hav€  belonged  to  a  chemist  or  color- 
maker.  On  the  right  of  the  atrium  is  a  triple  furnace,  constructed 
for  the  reception  of  three  large  cauldrons  at  different  levels,  which 
were  reached  by  steps.  The  house  contained  a  great  quantity 
of  carbonized  drugs.  At  the  sides  of  the  entrance  were  two 
stores  for  the  sale  of  the  manufactured  articles.  In  one  of  these 
stores  was  discovered,  some  yards  below  the  old  level  of  the  soil, 
the  skeleton  of  a  woman  with  two  bracelets  of  gold,  two  of  silver, 
four  ear-rings,  five  rings,  forty-seven  gold,  and  one  hundred  and 
ninety-seven  silver  coins,  in  a  purse  of  netted  gold. 


vy 


© 


<^ENERAL  ^URVEY  Of  THE  j]lTY. 


Proceeding  southward  along  the  Street  of  Mercury,  we  pass 
under  the  triumphal  arch  of  Nero,  and  crossing  the  transverse 
street  which  leads  towards  the  Gate  of  Nola,  enter  the  Street  of 
the  Forum,  a  continuation  of  the  Street  of  Mercury,  leading 
straight  to  the  triumphal  arch  at  the  north  end  of  the  Forum, 
and  bounding  the  island  of  the  Baths  on  the  eastern  side.  This 
street  is  one  of  the  most  spacious  in  Pompeii.  A  long  list  of  ar- 
ticles was  found  here  in  the  course  of  excavation.  One  of  the 
houses  about  the  centre  of  the  street  nearly  opposite  the  entrance 
to  the  Thermae,  is  of  more  consequence  than  the  rest,  and  has 
been  named  the  House  of  Bacchus,  from  a  large  painting  of  that 
god  on  a  door  opposite  to  the  entry.  Channels  for  the  introduc 
tion  of  water  were  found  in  the  atrium,  which  has  been  sur- 
rounded by  a  small  trough,  formed  to  contain  flowers,  the  outer 
side  of  which  is  painted  blue,  to  imitate  water,  with  boats  float- 
ing upon  it.  The  wall  behind  this  is  painted  with  pillars,  between 
which  are  balustrades  of  various  forms.  Cranes  and  other  birds 
perch  upon  these,  and  there  is  a  back  ground  of  reeds  and  other 
vegetables,  above  which  the  sky  is  visible.  The  greater  portion 
of  the  eastern  side  of  the  street  is  occupied  by  a  row  of  shops 
with  a  portico  in  front  of  them.  It  is  flanked  on  either  side  by 
footpaths,  and  must  have  presented  a  noble  appearance  when 
terminated  by  triumphal  arches  at  either  end,  and  overlooked  by 
the  splendid  Temple  of  Jupiter  and  that  of  Fortune  elevated  on 
its  lofty  basis. 

8  113 


114 


GENERAL    SURVEY    OF    THE    CITY. 


It  is  to  be  noticed  that  the  last-named  edifice  does  not  stand 
symmetrically  either  with  the  Street  of  the  Forum  or  with  the 
Street  of  the  Baths  running  past  the  House  of  the  Pansa.  "  The 
portico,"  we  quote  again  from  Gell,  "  is  turned  a  little  towards 
the  Forum,  and  the  front  of  the  temple  is  so  contrived  that  a  part 
of  it  might  be  seen  also  from  the  other  street.     It  is  highly  prob- 


GOLD  BREASTPINS   FOUND  AT  POMPEII. 


able  that  these  circumstances  are  the  result  of  design  rather  than 
of  chance.  The  Greeks  seem  to  have  preferred  the  view  of  a 
magnificent  building  from  a  corner,  and  there  is  scarcely  a  right- 
angled  plan  to  be  found  either  in  ancient  or  modern  Italy."  In 
the  Street  of  the  Forum  has  been  established  a  temporary  museum 
of  articles  found  in  Pompeii.  Adjoining  it  is  a  library  containing 
all  the  best  works  that  have  been  written  on  the  city. 

The  street  running  westward  between  the  baths  and  the 
Forum  presents  nothing  remarkable,  except  that  in  it  are  the 
signs  of  the  milk-shop  and  school  of  gladiators.     There  is  also  an 


WINE    merchant's    SIGN. 


115 


altar,  probably  dedicated  to  Jupiter,  placed  against  the  wall  of  a 
house;  above  it  is  a  bass-relief  in  stucco,  with  an  eagle  in  the 
tympanum.  Eastward  of  the  Forum  this  street  assumes  the 
name  of  the  Street  of  Dried  Fruits,  from  an  inscription  showing 
that  dried  fruits  were  sold  in  it;  and,  indeed,  a  considerable 
quantity  of  figs,  raisins,  chestnuts,  plums,  hempseed,  and  similar 
articles  were  found.  It  is  now,  however,  usually  called  the  Street 
of  the  Augustals. 

Near  the  point  at  whicli  this  street  is  intersected  by  that  of 
Eumachia,  running  at  the  back  of  the  east  side  of  the  Forum, 
there  is  a  remarkably  graceful  painting  of  a  3^outhful  Bacchus 
pressing  the  juice  of  the  grape  into  a  vase  placed  upon  a  pil- 
lar, at  the  foot  of  which  is  a  rampant  animal  expecting  the  liquor, 
apparently  meant  for  a  tiger  or  panther,  but  of  very  diminutive 
size.  This  picture  is  one  foot  five  inches  high  and  one  foot  two 
inches  wide.  It  probably  served  for  the  sign  of  a  wine-merchant. 
Corresponding  with  it,  on  the  other  side  of  the  shop,  is  a  painting 
of  Mercury,  to  render  that  knavish  god  propitious  to  the  owner's 
trade. 

We  will  now  proceed  to  the  Street  of  Abundance,  or  of  the 
Merchants,  formerly  called  the  Street  of  the  Silversmiths.  This 
is  about  twenty-eight  feet  wide,  and  bordered  on  each  side  by 
foot-paths  about  six  feet  wide,  which  are  described  as  made  in 
several  places  of  a  hard  plaster,  probably  analogous  to  opus 
Signinum.  At  the  end  next  the  Forum  it  is  blocked  up  by  two 
steps,  which  deny  access  to  wheel  carriages,  and  is  in  other  parts 
so  much  encumbered  by  large  stepping-stones  that  the  passage 
of  such  vehicles,  if  not  prohibited,  must  have  been  difficult  and 
inconvenient. 

We  may  here  take  notice  of  a  peculiarity  in  this  street.  It 
slopes  with  a  very  gentle  descent  away  from  the  Forum,  and  the 
courses  of  masonry,  instead  of  being  laid  horizontally,  run  par- 


Il6  GENERAL    SURVEY    OF    THE    CITY. 

allel  to  the  slope  of  the  ground,  a  unique  instance,  as  we  beheve^ 
of  such  a  construction. 

The  doors  of  several  shops  in  this  street  have  left  perfect 
impressions  on  the  volcanic  deposit,  by  which  it  appears  that  the 
planks  of  which  they  were  made  lapped  one  over  the  other,  like 
the  planks  of  a  boat. 

Althoug'h  the  houses  that  line  this  street  have  now  been 
cleared,  there  still  remains  a  large  unexcavated  space  on  its 
southern  side.  The  only  house  requiring  notice  is  that  called  the 
Casa  del  Cinghiale,  or  House  of  the  Wild  Boar,  a  little  way 
down  on  the  right-hand  side  in  ,^oing  from  the  Forum.  Its  name 
is  derived  from  the  mosaic  j^avement  of  the  prothyrum,  repre- 
senting a  boar  attacked  by  two  dogs.  The  house  is  remarkable 
for  its  well-preserved  peristyle  of  fourteen  Ionic  columns,  with 
their  capitals.  On  the  right  is  a  brick  staircase  leading  to  a  large 
garden.  The  atrium  is  bordered  with  a  mosaic  representing  the 
walls  of  a  city  with  towers  and  battlements,  supposed  by  some 
to  be  the  walls  of  Pompeii. 

Just  beyond  this  house  is  a  small  street  or  lane,  turning  down 
to  the  right,  called  the  Vicolo  del  Dodlci  Dei^  from  a  painting  on 
the  outside  wall  of  the  corner  house,  in  the  manner  of  a  frieze,, 
representing  the  twelve  greater  divinities.  Below  is  the  usual 
painting  of  serpents.  At  the  corner  of  the  quadrivium  is  the 
apothecary's  shop,  in  which  was  a  large  collection  of  surgical  in- 
struments, mortars,  drugs,  and  pills.  The  house  is  not  otherwise- 
remarkable. 

Of  the  early  excavations  at  the  southern  extremity  ol  the 
town  few  records  are  preserved.  In  the  Quarter  of  the  Theatres, 
besides  the  public  buildings,  there  are  but  two  houses  of  any  in- 
terest. These  occupy  the  space  between  the  Temple  of  vEscu- 
lapius  and  the  small  theatre.  The  easternmost  of  them  is  one  of 
the  most  interesting  yet  discovered  in  Pompeii,  not  for  the  beauty 
or  curiosity  of  the  building  itself,  but  for  its  contents,  which  prove 


SCULPTORS    LABORATORY. 


I  I 


it  to  have  been  the  abode  of  a  sculptor.  Here  were  found 
statues,  some  half  finished,  others  just  begun,  with  blocks  of 
marble,  and  all  the  tools  required  by  the  artist.  Amono-  these 
were  thirty-two  mallets,  many  compasses,  curved  and  strai(>-ht,  a 
great  quantity  of  chisels,  three  or  four  levers,  jacks  for  raising 
blocks,  saws,  etc.,  etc.  The  house  has  the  usual  arrangement  of 
atrium,  tablinum,  and  peristyle,  but,  owing  to  the  inclination  of 
the  ground,  the  peristyle  is  on  a  higher  level  than  the  public  part 


A.    LABORATORY,     AS    FOUND    IN    POMPKll. 

of  the  house,  and  communicates  with  it  by  a  llight  of  steps.  A 
large  reservoir  for  water  extended  under  the  peristyle,  which  was 
in  good  preservation  when  first  found,  but  has  been  much  injured 
by  the  failure  of  the  vault  beneath. 

Returning  by  the  southernmost  of  the  two  roads  which  lead 
to  the  Forum,  we  find,  beside  the  wall  of  the  triangular  Forum 
as  it  is  called,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  houses  in  Pompeii,  if 
not  for  its  size,  at  least  for  its  construction. 

The  excavations  here  made  were  begun  in  April,  1769,  in 
the  presence  of  the  Emperor  Joseph  II.,  after  whom  this  house 
has  been  named ;  but  after  curiosity  was  satisfied,  they  were  filled 
up  again  with  rubbish,  as  was  then  usual,  and  vines  and  poplars 


ii8 


HOUSE    OF    EMPEROR   JOSEPH    II. 


covered  them  almost  entirely  at  the  time  when  Mazois  examined 
the  place,  insomuch  that  the  underground  stories  were  all  that  he 
could  personally  observe.  The  emperor  was  accompanied  in  his 
visit  b}'  his  celebrated  minister,  Count  Kaunitz,  the  King  and 
Queen  of  Naples,  and  one  or  two  distinguished  antiquaries.  This 
was  one  of  the  first  private  dwellings  excavated  at  Pompeii.  It 
appears  to  have  been  a  mansion  of  considerable  magnificence, 
and,  from  its  elevated  position,  must  have  commanded  a  fine  view 
over  the  Bay  of  Naples  towards  Sorrento.  The  "  find  "  was  so 
good  on  the  occasion  of  the  emperor's  visit,  as  to  excite  his  sus- 
picion of  some  deceit.  The  numerous  articles  turned  up  afforded 
Sir  W.  Hamilton  an  opportunity  to  display  his  antiquarian  knowl- 
edge. Joseph  appears  to  have  been  rather  disgusted  on  hearing 
that  only  thirty  men  were  employed  on  the  excavations,  and  in- 
sisted that  three  thousand  were  necessary.  We  give  a  cut  of  the 
house,  page  119. 


^^]\^^^S'-|vij;>'T?- 


The  Amphitheatre  stands  some  hundred  yards  from  the 
theatres,  in  the  south-eastern  angle  of  the  walls  of  the  town  Al- 
though, perhaps,  of  Etruscan  origin,  the  exhibitions  of  the  amphi- 
theatre are  so  peculiarly  Roman,  and  Pompeii  contains  so  many 
mementos  of  them,  that  a  detailed  account  of  them  will  not  per- 
haps  be  misplaced.  At  an  early  period,  B.  C.  263,  the  practice 
of  compelling  human  beings  to  fight  for  the  amusement  of  spec- 
tators was  introduced;  and  twelve  years  later  the  capture  of  sev- 
eral elephants  in  the  first  Punic  war  proved  the  means  of  intro- 
ducing the  chase,  or  rather  the  slaughter,  of  wild  beasts  into  the 
Roman  circus.  The  taste  for  these  spectacles  increased  of  course 
with  its  'indulgence,  and  their  magnificence  with  the  wealth  of 
the  city  and  the  increasing  facility  and  inducement  to  practice 
bribery  which  was  offered  by  the  increased  extent  of  provinces 
subject  to  Rome.  It  was  not,  however,  until  the  last  period  of  the 
republic,  or  rather  until  the  domination  of  the  emperors  had  col- 
lected into  one  channel  the  tributary  wealth  which  previously  was 
divided  among  a  numerous  aristocracy,  that  buildings  were  erect 
ed  solely  for  the  accommodation  of  gladiatorial  shows ;  buildings 
entirely  beyond  the  compass  of  a  subject's  wealth,  and  in  which 
perhaps   the   magnificence  of  imperial  Rome  is  most  amply  dis- 


120 


THE    AMPHITHEATRE. 


121 


played.  Numerous  examples  scattered  throughout  her  empire, 
in  a  more  or  less  advanced  state  of  decay,  still  attest  the  luxury 
and  solidity  of  their  construction;  while  at  Rome  the  Coliseum 
(see  frontispiece)  asserts  the  pre-eminent  splendor  of  the  metrop- 
olis— a  monument  surpassed  in  magnitude  by  the  Pyramids  alone, 
and  as  superior  to  them  in  skill  and  varied  contrivance  of  design 
as  to  other  buildings  in  its  gigantic  magnitude. 


VIEW    OF   THE   AMPHITHEATRE    AT    POMPEII. 


The  Greek  word,  which  by  a  slight  alteration  of  its  termi- 
nation we  render  amphitheatre,  signifies  a  theatre,  or  place  of 
spectacles,  forming  a  continuous  inclosure,  in  opposition  to  the 
simple  theatre,  which,  as  we  have  said,  was  semicircular,  but 
with  the  seats  usually  continued  somewhat  in  advance  of  the  di- 
ameter of  the  semicircle.  The  first  amphitheatre  seems  to  have 
been  that  of  Curio,  consisting  of  two  movable  theatres,  which 
could  be  placed  face  to  face  or  back  to  back,  according  to  the 
species  of  amusement  for  which  they  were  required. 

Usually,  gladiatorial  shows  were  given  in  the  Forum,  and 


122  AMUSEMENTS. 

the  chase  and  combats  of  wild  beasts  exhibited  in  the  Circus, 
where  once,  when  Pompey  was  celebrating  games,  some  enraged 
elephants  broke  through  the  barrier  which  separated  them  from 
the  spectators.  This  circumstance,  together  with  the  unsuitabie- 
ness  of  the  Circus  for  such  sports,  I'rom  its  being  divided  into  two 
compartments  by  the  spina,  a  low  wall  surmounted  by  pillars, 
obelisks,  and  other  ornamental  erections,  as  well  as  from  its  dis- 
proportionate length,  which  rendered  it  ill  adapted  to  afford  a 
general  view  to  all  the  spectators,  determined  Julius  Caesar,  in  his 
dictatorship,  to  construct  a  wooden  theatre  in  the  Campus  Mar- 
tins, built  especially  for  hunting,  "  which  was  called  amphithea- 
tre (apparently  the  first  use  of  the  word)  because  it  was  encom- 
passed by  circular  seats  without  a  scene." 

The  first  permanent  amphitheatre  was  built  partly  of  stone 
and  partly  of  wood,  by  Statilius  Taurus,  at  the  instigation  of 
Augustus,  who  was  passionately  fond  of  these  sports,  especially 
of  the  hunting  of  rare  beasts.  This  was  burnt  during  the  reign 
of  Nero,  and  though  restored,  fell  short  of  the  wishes  of  Vespas- 
ian, who  commenced  the  vast  structure — completed  by  his  son 
Titus — called  the  Flavian  Amphitheatre,  and  subsequently  the 
Coliseum.  The  expense  of  this  building  it  is  said  would  have 
sufficed  to  erect  a  capital  city,  and,  if  we  may  credit  Dion,  9,00a 
wild  beasts  were  destroyed  in  its  dedication.  Eutropius  restricts- 
the  number  to  5,000.  When  the  hunting  was  over  the  arena 
was  filled  with  water,  and  a  sea-fight  ensued. 

The  construction  of  these  buildings  so  much  resembles  the 
construction  of  theatres,  that  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  describe 
them  at  any  great  length.  Without,  they  usually  presented  to- 
the  view  an  oval  wall,  composed  of  two  or  more  stories  of  arcades, 
supported  by  piers  of  different  orders  of  architecture  adorned 
with  pilasters  or  attached  pillars.  Within,  an  equal  number  ot 
stories  of  galleries  gave  access  to  the  spectators  at  different  ele- 
vations, and  the  inclined  plane  of  the  seats  was  also  supported 


THE    AMPHITHEATRE. 


123 


upon  piers  and  vaults,  so  that  the  ground  plan  presL-ii'L-jd  a  num- 
ber of  circular  rows  of  piers,  arranged  in  radii  converging  to  the 
centre  of  the  arena.  A  suitable  number  of  doors  opened  upon 
the  ground  floor,  and  passages  from  thence,  intersecting  the  cir- 
cular passages  between  the  piers,  gave  an  easy  access  to  every 
part  of  the  building.  Sometimes  a  gallery  encompassed  the 
whole,  and  served  as  a  common  access  to  all  the  stairs  which  led 
to  the  upper  stories.  This  was  the  case  in  the  amphitheatre  at 
Nismes.  Sometimes  each  staircase  had  its  distinct  communica- 
tion from  without:  this  was  the  case  at  Verona. 

The  arrangement  of  the  seats  was  the  same  as  in  theatres; 
they  were  divided  horizontally  by  praecinctiones,  and  vertically 
into  cunei  by  staircases.  The  scene  and  apparatus  of  the  stage 
was  of  course  wanting,  and  its  place  occupied  by  an  oval  area, 
called  arena,  from  the  sand  with  which  it  was  sprinkled,  to  ab- 
sorb the  blood  shed,  and  give  a  firmer  footing  than  that  afforded 
by  a  stone  pavement.  It  was  sunk  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  below 
the  lowest  range  of  seats,  to  secure  the  spectators  from  injury, 
and  was  besides  fenced  with  round  wooden  rollers  turning  in  their 
sockets,  placed  horizontally  against  the  wall,  such  as  the  reader 
may  have  observed  placed  on  low  gates  to  prevent  dogs  from 
climbing  over,  and  with  strong  nets.  In  the  time  of  Nero  these 
nets  were  knotted  with  amber,  and  the  Emperor  Carinus  caused 
them  to  be  made  of  golden  cord  or  wire.  Sometimes,  for  more 
complete  security,  ditches,  called  euripi^  surrounded  the  arena. 
This  was  first  done  by  Csesar,  as  a  protection  to  the  people  against 
the  elephants  which  he  exhibited,  that  animal  being  supposed  to 
be  particularly  afraid  of  water.  The  arena  was  sometimes  spread 
with  pounded  stone.  Caligula,  in  a  fit  of  extravagance,  used 
chrysocolla;  and  Nero,  to  surpass  him,  caused  the  brilliant  red  of 
cinnabar  to  be  mixed  with  it. 

In  the  centre  of  the  arena  was  an  altar  dedicated  sometimes 
to  Diana  or  Pluto,  more  commonly  to  Jupiter  Latiaris.  the  pro- 


124 


AMUSEMENTS. 


tector  of  Latium,  in  honor  of  whom  human  sacrifices  were  offered. 
Passages  are  to  be  found  in  ancient  writers,  from  which  it  is  in- 
ferred that  the  games  of  the  amphitheatre  were  usually  opened 
by  sacrificing  a  bestiarias^  one  of  those  gladiators  whose  profes- 
sion was  to  combat  wild  beasts,  in  honor  of  this  bloodthirsty 
deity.  Beneath  the  arena  dens  are  supposed  to  have  been  con- 
structed to  contain  wild  beasts. 

At  the  Coliseum  numerous  underground  buildings  are  said 
by  Fulvius  to  have  existed,  which  he  supposed  to  be  sewers  con- 
structed to  drain  and  cleanse  the  building.  Others  with  more 
probability  have  supposed  them  to  be  the  dens  of  wild  beasts. 
Immense  accommodation  was  requisite  to  contain  the  thousands 
of  animals  which  were  slaughtered  upon  solemn  occasions,  but  no 
great  provision  need  have  been  made  to  carry  oft' the  rain-water 
which  fell  upon  the  six  acres  comprised  within  the  walls  of  the 
building.  Others  again  have  supposed  them  formed  to  introduce 
the  vast  bodies  of  water  by  which  the  arena  was  suddenly  trans- 
formed into  a  lake  when  imitations  of  naval  battles  were  exhib- 
ited. Doors  pierced  in  the  wall  which  supported  the  podium 
communicated  with  these,  or  with  other  places  of  confinement 
beneath  the  part  allotted  to  the  audience,  which  being  thrown 
open,  vast  numbers  of  animals  could  be  introduced  at  once.  Vo- 
piscus  tells  us  that  a  thousand  ostriches,  a  thousand  stags,  and  a 
thousand  boars  were  thrown  into  the  arena  at  once  by  the  Em- 
peror Probus.  Sometimes,  to  astonish,  and  attract  by  novelty, 
the  arena  was  converted  into  a  wood.  "  Probus,"  says  the  same 
author,  "  exhibited  a  splendid  hunting  match,  after  the  following 
manner :  Large  trees  torn  up  by  the  roots  were  firmly  connected 
by  beams,  and  fixed  upright;  then  earth  was  spread  over  the 
roots,  so  that  the  whole  circus  was  planted  to  resemble  a  wood, 
and  oftered  us  the  gratification  of  a  green  scene." 

The  same  order  of  precedence  was  observed  as  at  the  the- 
atre— senators,  knights,  and  commons  having  each  their  appro- 


THE    AMPHITHEATRE. 


^25 


priate  place.  To  the  former  was  set  apart  the  podium,  a  broad 
precinction  or  platform  which  ran  immediately  round  the  arena. 
Hither  they  brought  the  curule  seats  or  bisellia,  described  in 
speaking  of  the  theatres  of  Pompeii ;  and  here  was  the  suggestus, 
a  covered  seat  appropriated  to  the  Emperor.  It  is  supposed  that 
in  this  part  of  the  building  there  were  also  seats  of  honor  for  the 
exhibitor  of  the  games  and  the  vestal  virgins.  If  the  podium  was 
insufficient  for  the  accommodation  of  the  senators,  some  of  the 
adjoining  seats  were  taken  for  their  use.  Next  to  the  senators 
sat  the  knights,  who  seem  here,  as  in  the  theatre,  to  have  had 
fourteen  rows  set  apart  for  them;  and  with  them  sat  the  civil  and 
military  tribunes.  Behind  were  the  popularia,  or  seats  of  the 
plebeians.  Different  tribes  had  particular  cunei  allotted  to  them. 
There  were  also  some  further  internal  arrangements,  for  Augus- 
tus separated  married  from  unmarried  men,  and  assigned  a  sep- 
arate cuneus  to  youths,  near  wacm  their  tutors  were  stationed. 
Women  were  stationed  in  a  gallery,  and  attendants  and  servants 
in  the  highest  gallery.  The  general  direction  of  the  amphithe- 
atre was  under  the  care  of  an  officer  named  villiciis  aiurphitheatri. 
Officers  called  locarii  attended  to  the  distribution  of  the  people, 
and  removed  any  person  from  a  seat  which  he  was  not  entitled 
to  hold.  We  may  notice,  as  a  refinement  of  luxury,  that  concealed 
conduits  were  carried  throughout  these  buildings,  from  which 
Scented  liquids  were  scattered  over  the  audience.  Sometimes  the 
statues  which  ornamented  them  were  applied  to  this  purpose,  and 
seemed  to  sweat  perfume  through  minute  holes,  with  which  the 
pipes  that  traversed  them  were  pierced.  It  is  this  to  which  Lu- 
can  alludes  in  the  following  lines: — 

As  when  mighty  Rome's  spectators  meet 

In  the  full  theatre's  capacious  seat, 
At  once,  by  secret  pipes  and  channels  fed, 
Rich  tinctures  push  from  every  antique  head; 
At  once  ten  thousand  saffron  currents  flow, 
And  rain  their  odors  on  the  crowd  below. 

Rowe's  Lucan,  book  ix. 


126  AMUSEMENTS. 

Saffron  was  the  material  usually  employed  for  these  refreshing 
showers.  The  dried  herb  >vas  infused  in  wine,  more  especially 
in  sweet  wine.  Balsams  and  the  more  costly  unguents  were 
sometimes  employed  for  the  same  purpose. 

Another  contrivance,  too  remarkable  to  be  omitted  in  a  gen 
eral  account  of  amphitheatres,  is  the  awning  b}^  which  spectators 
were  protected  from  the  overpowering  heat  of  an  Italian  sun. 
This  was  called  Velum,  or  Velarium;  and  it  has  afforded  matter 
for  a  good  deal  of  controversy,  how  a  temporary  covering  could 
be  extended  over  the  vast  areas  of  these  buildings.  Something 
of  the  kind  was  absolutely  necessary,  for  the  spectacle  often  last- 
ed for  many  hours,  and  when  anything  extraordinary  was  ex- 
pected the  people  went  in  crowds  before  daylight  to  obtain  places, 
and  some  even  at  midnight. 

The  Campanians  first  invented  the  means  of  stretching  awn- 
ings over  their  theatres,  by  means  of  cords  stretched  across  the 
cavea  and  attached  to  masts  which  passed  through  perforated 
blocks  of  stone  deeply  bedded  in  the  wall.  Quintus  Catulus 
introduced  them  at  Rome  when  he  celebrated  games  at  the  dedi- 
cation of  the  Capitol,  B.  C.  69.  Lentulus  Spinther,  a  contem- 
porary of  Cicero,  first  erected  fine  linen  awnings  (carbasina  vela). 
Julius  Cassar  covered  over  the  whole  Forum  Romanum,  and  the 
Via  Sacra,  from  his  own  house  to  the  Capitol,  which  was  esteemed 
even  more  wonderful  than  his  gladiatorial  exhibition.  Dio  men- 
tions a  report  that  these  awnings  were  of  silk,  but  he  speaks 
doubtfully;  and  it  is  scarcely  probable  that  even  Caesar's  extrava- 
gance would  have  carried  him  so  far.  Silk  at  that  time  was  not 
manufactured  at  Rome;  and  we  learn  from  Vopiscus,  that  even 
in  the  time  of  Aurelian  the  raw  material  was  worth  its  weight  in 
gold.  Lucretius,  speaking  of  the  effect  of  colored  bodies  upon 
transmitted  light,  has  a  fine  passage  illustrative  of  the  magnifi- 
cence displayed  in  this  branch  of  theatrical  decoration. 


rilE    AMPHITHEATRE.  1 27 

This  the  crowd  surveys 
Oft  in  the  theatre,  whose  awnings  broad, 
Bedecked  with  crimson,  yellow,  or  the  tint 
Of  steel  cerulean,  from  their  fluted  heights 
Wave  tremulous;  and  o'er  the  scene  beneath, 
Each  marble  statue,  and  the  rising  rows 
Of  rauk  and  beauty,  fling  their  tint  superb. 
While  as  the  walls  with  ampler  shade  repel 
The  garish  noonbeam,  every  object  round 
Laughs  with  a  deeper  dye,  and  wears  profuse 
A  lovelier  lustre,  ravished  from  the  day. 

Wool,  however,  was  the  most  common  material,  and  the 
velaria  made  in  Apulia  were  most  esteemed,  on  account  of  the 
whiteness  of  the  vv^ool. 

Those  who  are  not  acquainted  by  experience  with  the  diffi- 
culty of  giving  stability  to  tents  of  large  dimensions,  and  the 
greater  difficulty  of  erecting  awnings,  when,  on  account  of  the 
purpose  for  which  they  are  intended,  no  support  can  be  applied 
in  the  centre,  may  not  fully  estimate  the  difficulty  of  erecting  and 
managing  these  velaria.  Strength  was  necessary,  both  for  the 
cloth  itself  and  for  the  cords  which  strained  and  supported  it,  or 
the  whole  would  have  been  shivered  by  the  first  gust  of  wind, 
and  strength  could  not  be  obtained  without  great  weight.  Man}) 
of  our  readers  probably  are  not  aware,  that  however  short  and 
light  a  string  may  be,  no  amount  of  tension  applied  horizontally 
will  stretch  it  into  a  line  perfectly  and  mathematically  straight. 
Practically  the  deviation  is  imperceptible  where  the  power  ap- 
plied is  very  large  in  proportion  to  the  weight  and  length  of  the 
string.  Still  it  exists;  and  to  take  a  common  example,  the  reader 
probably  never  saw  a  clothes-line  stretched  out,  though  neithei 
the  weight  nor  length  of  the  string  are  considerable,  without  the 
middle  being  visibly  lower  than  the  ends.  When  the  line  is  at 
once  long  and  heavy,  an  enormous  power  is  required  to  suspend 
it  even  in  a  curve  between  two  points ;  and  the  amount  of  tension, 
and  difficulty  of  finding  materials  able  to  withstand   it,  are  the 


.128  AMUSEMENTS. 

only  obstacles  to  constructing  chain  bridges  which  should  be 
thousands,  instead  of  hundreds  of  feet  in  length. 

In  these  erections  the  piers  are  raised  to  a  considerable 
height,  that  a  sufficient  depth  may  be  allowed  for  the  curve  of  the 
chains  without  depressing  the  roadway.  Ten  times — a  hundred 
times  the  power  which  was  applied  to  strain  them  into  that  shape 
would  not  suffice  to  bring  them  even  so  near  to  a  horizontal  line 
but  that  the  most  inaccurate  and  unobservant  eye  should  at  once 
detect  the  inequality  in  their  level;  and  the  chains  themselves 
would  probably  give  way  before  such  a  force  as  this  could  be  ap- 
plied to  them.  The  least  diameter  of  the  Coliseum  is  nearly 
equal  in  length  to  the  Menai  bridge;  and  if  the  labor  of  stretch- 
ing cords  over  the  one  seems  small  in  comparison  with  that  of 
raising  the  ponderous  chains  of  the  other,  we  may  take  into  con- 
sideration the  weight  of  cloth  which  those  cords  supported,  and 
the  increase  of  difficulties  arising  from  the  action  of  the  wind  on 
so  extensive  a  surface. 

In  boisterous  weather,  as  we  learn  from  Martial  and  other 
authors,  these  difficulties  were  so  great  that  the  velum  could  not 
be  spread.  When  this  was  the  case  the  Romans  used  broad  hats, 
or  a  sort  of  parasol,  which  was  called  umbella  or  umbraculum^ 
from  timhra^  shade.  We  may  add,  in  conclusion,  that  Suetonius 
mentions  as  one  of  Caligula's  tyrannical  extravagances,  that 
sometimes  at  a  show  of  gladiators,  when  the  sun's  heat  was  most 
intense,  he  would  cause  the  awning  to  be  drawn  back,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  forbid  any  person  to  leave  the  place. 

The  difficulty  of  the  undertaking  has  given  rise  to  consider- 
able discussion  as  to  the  means  by  which  the  Romans  contrived 
to  extend  the  velum  at  such  a  height  over  so  great  a  surface,  and 
to  manage  it  at  pleasure.  Sailors  were  employed  in  the  service, 
for  the  Emperor  Commodus,  who  piqued  himself  on  his  gladia- 
torial skill,  and  used  to  fight  in  the  arena,  believing  himself 
mocked  by  the  servile  crowd  of  spectators,  when  once  they  hailed 


'*V 


THE    AMPHITHEATRE. 


129 


him  with  divine  honors,  gave  order  lor  their  slaughter  by  the 
sailors  who  were  managing  the  veils. 

Concerning  the  method  oi  working  them  no  information  has 
been  handed  down.  It  is  evident,  however,  that  the}'  were  sup- 
ported  by  masts  which  rose  above  the  summit  of  the  walls.  Near 
the  top  of  the  outer  wall  of  the  Coliseum  there  are  240  consoles, 
or  projecting  blocks  of  stone,  in  which  holes  are  cut  to  receive 
the  ends  of  spars,  which  ran  up  through  holes  cut  in  the  cornice 
to  some  heio;ht  above  the  g^reatest  elevation  of  the  buildino-.  A 
sufficient  number  of  firm  points  of  support  at  equal  intervals  was 
thus  procured;  and,  this  difficulty  being  overcome,  the  next  was 
to  stretch  as  tight  as  possible  the  larger  ropes,  upon  which  the 
whole  covering  depended  for  its  stability. 

The  games  to  which  these  buildings  were  especially  devoted 
were,  as  we  have  already  hinted,  two-fold — those  in  which  wild 
beasts  were  introduced,  to  combat  either  with  each  other  or  with 
men,  and  those  in  which  men  fought  with  men.  Under  the  gen- 
eral term  of  gladiators  are  comprised  all  who  fought  in  the  arena, 
though  those  who  pitted  their  skill  against  the  strength  and 
ferocity  of  savage  animals  were  peculiarly  distinguished  by  the 
name  of  hestiarii.  In  general  these  unhappy  persons  were  slaves 
or  condemned  criminals,  who,  by  adopting  this  profession,  pur- 
chased an  uncertain  prolongation  of  existence,  but  freemen  some- 
times gained  a  desperate  subsistence  by  thus  hazarding  their  lives ; 
and  in  the  decline  of  Rome,  knights,  senators,  and  even  the  em- 
perors sometimes  appeared  in  the  arena,  at  the  instigation  of  a 
vulgar  and  degrading  thirst  for  popular  applause. 

The  origin  of  these  blood}^  entertainments  may  be  found  in 
the  earliest  records  of  profane  history  and  the  earliest  stages  of 
society.  Among  half-civilized  or  savage  nations,  both  ancient 
and  modern,  we  find  it  customary  after  a  battle  to  sacrifice  pris- 
oners of  war  in  honor  of  those  chiefs  who  have  been  slain.  Thus 
Achilles  offers  up  twelve  young  Trojans  to  the   ghost  of  Patro- 

9 


130  AMUSEMENTS. 

clus.  In  course  of  time  it  became  usual  to  sacrifice  slaves  at  the 
funeral  of  all  persons  of  condition ;  and  either  for  the  amusement 
of  the  spectators,  or  because  it  appeared  barbarous  to  massacre 
defenceless  men,  arms  were  placed  in  their  hands,  and  they  were 
incited  to  save  their  own  lives  by  the  death  of  those  who  were 
opposed  to  them. 

In  later  times,  the  furnishing  these  unhappy  men  became 
matter  of  speculation,  and  they  were  carefully  trained  to  the  pro- 
fession of  arms,  to  increase  the  reputation  and  popularity  of  the 
contractor  who  provided  them.  This  person  was  called  Janista 
by  the  Romans.  At  first  these  sports  were  performed  about  the 
funeral  pile  of  the  deceased,  or  near  his  sepulchre,  in  consonance 
with  the  idea  of  sacrifice  in  which  they  originated;  but  as  they 
became  more  splendid,  and  ceased  to  be  peculiarly  appropriated 
to  such  occasions,  they  were  removed,  originally  to  the  Forum, 
and  afterwards  to  the  Circus  and  amphitheatres. 

Gladiators  were  first  exhibited  at  Rome,  B.  C.  265,  by  M. 
and  D.  Brutus,  on  occasion  of  the  death  of  their  father.  This 
show  consisted  only  of  three  pairs.  B.  C.  216,  the  three  sons 
of  M.  ^milius  Lepidus,  the  augur,  entertained  the  people  in  the 
Forum  with  eleven  pair,  and  the  show  lasted  three  days.  B.  C. 
201,  the  three  sons  of  M.  Valerius  Lgevinus  exhibited  twenty-five 
pairs.  And  thus  these  shows  increased  in  number  and  frequency, 
and  the  taste  for  them  strengthened  with  its  gratification,  until 
not  only  the  heir  of  any  rich  or  eminent  person  lately  deceased, 
but  all  the  principal  magistrates,  and  the  candidates  for  magis- 
tracies, presented  the  people  with  shows  of  this  nature  to  gain 
their  favor  and  support. 

This  taste  was  not  without  its  inconveniences  and  dangers. 
Men  of  rank  and  political  importance  V&'^X.  families ^  as  they  were 
called,  of  gladiators — desperadoes  ready  to  execute  any  command 
of  their  master;  and  towards  the  fall  of  the  republic,  when  party 
rage  scrupled  not  to  have  recourse  to  open  violence,  questions  of 


THE    AMPHITHEATRE. 


31 


the  highest  import  were  debated  in  the  streets  of  the  city  b}'  the 
most  despised  of  its  slaves.  In  the  conspiracy  of  CatiHne  so 
much  danger  was  appijehended  from  them,  that  particular  meas- 
ures were  taken  to  prevent  their  joining  the  disaffected  part}-;  an 
event  the  more  to  be  feared  because  of  the  desperate  wilr  in  which 
they  had  engaged  the  republic  a  few  }-ears  before,  under  the  com 
mand  of  the  celebrated  Spartacus.  At  a  much  later  period,  at 
the  triumph  of  Probus,  A.D.  281,  about  fourscore  gladiators  ex- 
hibited a  similar  courage.  Disdaining  to  shed  their  blood  for  the 
amusement  of  a  cruel  people,  they  killed  their  keepers,  broke  out 
from  the  place  of  their  confinement,  and  filled  the  streets  of  Rome 
with  blood  and  confusion.  After  an  obstinate  resistance  they 
were  cut  to  pieces  by  the  regular  troops. 

The  oath  which  they  took  upon  entering  the  service  is  pre- 
served  by  Petronius,  and  is  couched  in  these  terms:  "  We  swear, 
after  the  dictation  of  Eumolpus,  to  suffer  death  by  fire,  bonds, 
stripes,  and  the  sword;  and  whatever  else  Eumolpus  may  com- 
mand, as  true  gladiators  we  bind  ourselves  body  and  mind  to  our 
master's  service." 

From  slaves  and  freedmen  the  inhuman  sport  at  length 
spread  to  persons  of  rank  and  fortune,  insomuch  that  Augustus 
was  obliged  to  issue  an  edict,  that  none  of  senatorial  rank  should 
become  gladiators;  and  soon  after  he  laid  a  similar  restraint  on 
the  knights. 

Succeeding  emperors,  according  to  their  characters,  encour- 
aged or  endeavored  to  suppress  this  degrading  taste.  Nero  is 
related  to  have  brought  upwards  of  four  hundred  senators  and 
six  hundred  knights  upon  the  arena;  and  in  some  of  his  exhibi- 
tions even  women  of  quality  contended  publicly.  The  excellent 
Marcus  Aurelius  not  only  retrenched  the  enormous  expenses  ol 
these  amusements,  but  ordered  that  gladiators  should  contend 
only  with  blunt  weapons.  But  they  were  not  abolished  until 
some   time   after  the    introduction  of  Christianity.     Constantine 


'32 


AMUSEMENTS. 


published  the  hrst  edict  which  condemned  the  shedding  of  human 
blood,  and  ordered  that  criminals  condemned  to  death  should 
rather  be  sent  to  the  mines  than  reserved^  tor  the  service  of  the 
amphitheatre.  In  the  reign  of  Honorius,  when  he  was  celebra- 
ting- with  maofnificent  grames  the  retreat  of  the  Goths  and  the  de- 
liverance  of  Rome,  an  Asiatic  monk,  by  name  Telemachus,  had 
the  boldness  to  descend  into  the  arena  to  part  the  combatants. 
"  The  Romans  were  provoked  by  this  interruption  of  their  pleas- 
ures, and  the  rash  monk  was  overwhelmed  under  a  shower  of 
stones.  But  the  madness  of  the  people  soon  subsided;  they  re- 
spected the  memory  of  Telemachus,  who  had  deserved  the  hon- 
ors of  martyrdom,  and  they  submitted  without  a  murmur  to  the 
laws  of  Honorius,  which  abolished  forever  the  human  sacrifices 
of  the  amphitheatre."  This  occurred  A.D.  404.  It  was  not, 
however,  until  the  year  500  that  the  practice  was  finally  and 
completely  abolished  by  Theodoric. 

Some  time  before  the  day  appointed  for  the  spectacle,  he 
who  gave  it  {editor)  published  bills  containing  the  name  and  en- 
signs of  the  gladiators,  for  each  of  them  had  his  own  distinctive 
badge,  and  stating  also  how  many  were  to  fight,  and  how  long 
the  show  would  last.  It  appears  that  like  our  itinerant  showmen 
they  sometimes  exhibited  paintings  of  what  the  sports  were  to 
contain.  On  the  appointed  day  the  gladiators  marched  in  pro- 
cession with  much  ceremony  into  the  amphitheatre.  The}'  then 
separated  into  pairs,  as  they  had  been  previously  matched.  An 
engraving  on  the  wall  of  the  amphitheatre  at  Pompeii  seems  to 
represent  the  beginning  of  a  combat.  In  the  middle  stands  the 
arbiter  of  the  fight,  marking  out  with  a  long  stick  the  space  for 
the  combatants.  On  his  right  stands  a  gladiator  only  half  armed, 
to  whom  two  others  are  bringing  a  sword  and  helmet.  On  the 
left  another  gladiator,  also  only  partly  armed,  sounds  the  trum- 
pet for  the   commencement  of  the  fight  ;  whilst  behind   him  two 


THE    AMPHITHEATRE. 


companions,  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  Victories  which  enclose  the 
scene,  are  preparing  his  helmet  and  shield. 

At  first,  however,  they  contended  only  with  staves,  called 
rudes^  or  with  blunted  weapons ;  but  when  warmed  and  inspirited 
by  the  pretense  of  battle,  they  changed  their  weapons,  and  ad- 
vanced at  the  sound  of  trumpets  to  the  real  strife.  The  conquered 
looked  to  the  people  or  to  the  emperor  for  life:  his  antag^onist  had 


EXAMINING    THE    WOUNDED. 


no  power  to  grant  or  to  refuse  it;  but  if  the  spectators  were  dis- 
satisfied and  gave  the  signal  of  death,  he  was  obliged  to  become 
the  executioner  of  their  will.  This  signal  was  the  turning  down 
the  thumbs;  as  is  well  known.  If  any  showed  signs  of  fear,  their 
death  was  certain;  if  on  the  other  hand  they  waited  the  fatal 
stroke  with  intrepidity,  the  people  generally  relented.  But  fear 
and  want  of  spirit  were  of  very  rare  occurrence,  insomuch  that 
Cicero  more  than  once  proposed  the  principle  of  honor  which  act- 
uated gladiators  as  an  admirable  model  of  constancy  and  courage, 
by  which  he  intended  to  animate  himself  and  others  to  sutfer 
fivervthino-  in  defence  of  the  commonwealth. 


134 


AMUSEMENTS. 


The  bodies  of  the  slain  were  dragged  with  a  hook  or  on  a 
cart  through  a  gate  called  Libitinensis,  the  Gate  of  Death. 
The  victor  was  rewarded  with  a  sum  of  money,  contributed  by 
the  spectators  or  bestowed  from  the  treasury,  or  a  palm-branch, 
or  a  garland  of  palm  ornamented  with  colored  ribbons — ensigns 
of  frequent  occurrence  in  ancient  monuments.  Those  who  sur- 
vived three  years  were  released  from*  this  service,  and  sometimes 
one  who  had  given  great  satisfaction  was  enfranchised  on  the 
spot.  This  was  done  by  presenting  the  statf  (yv/c//^)  which  was 
used  in  preluding  to  the  combat;  on  receiving  which,  the  gladia- 
tor, if  a  freeman,  recovered  his  liberty;  if  a  slave,  he  was  not 
made  free,  but  was  released  from  the  obligation  of  venturing  his 
life  any  further  in  the  arena. 

Gladiators  were  divided,  according  to  the  fashion  of  their 
armor  and  offensive  weapons,  into  classes,  known  by  the  names  of 
Thrax,  Samnis,  Myrmillo,  and  many  others,  of  which  a  mere 
catalogue  would  be  tedious,  and  it  would  be  the  work  of  a  treat- 
ise to  ascertain  and  describe  their  distinctive  marks. 

Another  group  consists  of  four  figures.  Two  are  seciitores^  fol- 
lowers, the  other  two,  7'ettan?\  net  men,  armed  only  with  a  tri- 
dent and  net,  with  which  they  endeavored  to  entangle  their 
adversary,  and  then  dispatch  him.  These  classes,  like  the  Thrax 
and  Myrmillo,  were  usual  antagonists,  and  had  their  name  from 
the  secutor  following  the  retiarius,  who  eluded  the  pursuit  until 
he  found  an  opportunity  to  throw  his  net  to  advantage.  Nepimus, 
one  of  the  latter,  five  times  victorius,  has  fought  against  one  of 
the  former,  whose  name  is  lost,  but  who  had  triumphed  six  times 
in  different  combats.  He  has  been  less  fortunate  in  this  battle. 
Nepimus  has  struck  him  in  the  leg,  the  thigh,  and  the  left  arm; 
his  blood  runs,  and  in  vain  he  implores  mercy  from  the  specta- 
tors. As  the  trident  with  which  Nepimus  is  armed  is  not  a 
weapon  calculated  to  inflict  speedy  and  certain  death,  the  secutor 


THE    AMPHITHEATRE. 


135 


Hyppolitus  performs  this  last  office  to  his  comrade.  The  con- 
demned wretch  bends  the  knee,  presents  his  throat  to  the  sword, 
and  throws  himself  forward  to  meet  the  blow,  while  Nepimus, 
his  conqueror,  pushes  him,  and  seems  to  insult  the  last  moments 
of  his  victim.  In  the  distance  is  the  retiarius,  who  must  fio-ht 
Hyppolitus  in  his  turn.  The  secutores  have  a  very  plain  helmet, 
that  their  adversary  may  have  little  or  no  opportunity  of  pulling 
it  off  with  the  net  or  trident;  the  right  arm  is  clothed  in  armor, 


""■"'"Am       MftllK'C 


hWllklh  P'f  ''W^^S, 


ASKING    PARDON. 


NOT  GRANTED. 


the  left  bore  a  clypeus^  or  large  round  shield ;  a  sandal  tied  with 
narrow  bands  forms  the  covering  for  their  feet.  They  wear  no 
body  armor,  no  covering  but  a  cloth  round  the  waist,  for  by  their 
lightness  and  activity  alone  could  they  hope  to  avoid  death  and 
gain  the  victory.  The  retiarii  have  the  head  bare,  except  a  fillet 
bound  round  the  hair;  they  have  no  shield,  but  the  left  side  is 
covered  with  a  demi-cuiarass,  and  the  left  arm  protected  in  the 
usual  manner,  except  that  the  shoulder-piece  is  very  high.  They 
wear  the  caliga,  or  low  boot  common  to  the  Roman  soldiery,  and 
bear  the  trident;  but  the  net  with  which  they  endeavored  to  en- 
velop their  adversaries  is  nowhere  visible.  This  bas-relief  is  ter- 
minated by  the  combat  between  a  light-armed  gladiator  and  a 
Samnite.     This  last  beseeches  the  spectators  to  save  him,  but  it 


136  AMUSEMENTS. 

appears  from  the  action  of  the  principal  figure  that  this  is  not 
granted.  The  conqueror  looks  towards  the  steps  of  the  amphi- 
theatre; he  has  seen  the  fatal  signal,  and  in  reply  prepares  him- 
self to  strike. 

Between  the  pilasters  of  the  door  the  frieze  is  continued. 
Two  combats  are  represented.  In  the  first  a  Samnite  has  been 
conquered  by  a  Myrmillo.  This  last  wishes  to  become  his  com- 
rade's executioner  without  waiting  the  answer  from  the  people, 
to  whom  the  v^anquished  has  appealed;  but  the  lanista  checks 
his  arm,  from  which  it  w^ould  seem  that  the  Samnite  obtained 
pardon. 

Another  pair  exhibits  a  similar  combat,  in  which  the  Myr- 
millo falls  stabbed  to  death.  The  wounds,  the  blood,  and  the 
inside  of  the  bucklers  are  painted  of  a  very  bright  red  color.  The 
swords,  with  the  exception  of  that  of  Hyppolitus,  are  omitted ;  it 
is  possible  that  it  was  intended  to  make  them  of  metal. 

The  bas-reliefs  constituting  the  lower  frieze  are  devoted  to 
the  chase  and  to  combats  between  men  and  animals.  In  the 
upper  part  are  hares  pursued  by  a  dog;  beyond  is  a  wounded 
stag  pursued  by  dogs,  to  whom  he  is  about  to  become  the  prey; 
below,  a  wild  boar  is  seized  by  an  enormous  dog,  which  has  al- 
ready caused  his  blood  to  flow. 

In  the  middle  of  the  composition  a  bestiarius  has  transfixed 
a  bear  with  a  stroke  of  his  lance.  This  person  wears  a  kind  of 
short  hunting  boot,  and  is  clothed  as  well  as  his  comrade  in  a 
light  tunic  without  sleeves,  bound  round  the  hips,  and  called 
subucuJa.  It  was  the  dress  of  the  common  people,  as  we  learn 
from  the  sculptures  on  Trajan's  column.  The  companion  of  this 
man  has  transfixed  a  bull,  which  flies,  carrying  with  him  the 
heavy  lance  with  which  he  is  wounded.  He  turns  his  head  toward 
his  assailant,  and  seems  to  wish  to  return  to  the  attack ;  the  man  by 
his  gestures  appears  astonished,  beholding  himself  disarmed  and 
at  the  mercy  of  the  animal,  whom  he  thought  mortally  stricken. 


THE    AMPHITHEATRE. 


137 


Pliny  (lib.  viii.  cap.  45)  speaks  of  the  ferocity  shown  by  bulls  in 
these  combats,  and  of  having  seen  them,  when  stretched  for  dead 
on  the  arena,  lift  themselves  up  and  renew  the  combat. 

Another  sort  of  amphitheatrical  amusements  consisted  in 
witnessing  the  death  of  persons  under  sentence  of  the  law,  either 
by  the  hands  of  the  executioner,  or  by  being  exposed  to  the  fury 
of  savage  animals.  The  early  Christians  were  especially  sub- 
jected to  this  species  of 
cruelty.  Nero  availed 
himself  of  the  prejudice 
against  them  to  turn 
^"^  aside  popular  indigna- 
tion after  the  great  con- 
flagration of  Rome, 
which  is  commonly  as- 
cribed to  his  own  wanton 
love  of  mischief;  and  we 
learn  from  Tertullian, 
that,  after  great  public 
misfortunes,  the  cry  of 
the  populace  was,  "  To 
the  lions  with  the  Christians." 
The  Coliseum  now  owes  its 
preservation  to  the  Christian 
blood  so  profusely  shed  within 
its  walls.  After  serving  during 
ages  as  a  quarr}'  of  hewn  stone 
for  the  use  of  all  whose  station  and  power  entitled  them  to  a  share 
in  public  plunder,  it  was  at  last  secured  from  further  injury  by 
Pope  Benedict  XIV.,  who  consecrated  the  building  about  the 
middle  of  the  last  century,  and  placed  it  under  the  protection  of 
the  martyrs,  who  had  there  borne  testimony  with  their  blood  to 
the  sincerity  of  their  belief 


138  AMUSEMENTS. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  amphitheatre  of  Pompeii  at  variance 
with  the  general  description  of  this  class  of  buildings,  and  our 
notice  of  it  will  therefore  necessarily  be  short.  (See  page  121.) 
Its  form,  as  usual,  is  oval:  the  extreme  length,  from  outside  to 
outside  of  the  exterior  arcade,  is  430  feet,  its  greatest  breadth  is 
335  feet.  The  spectators  gained  admission  by  tickets,  which  had 
numbers  or  marks  on  them,  corresponding  with  similar  signs  on 
the  arches  through  which  they  entered.  Those  who  were  enti- 
tled to  occupy  the  lower  ranges  of  seats  passed  through  the  per- 
forated arcades  of  the  lower  order;  those  whose  place  was  in  the 
upper  portion  of  the  cavea  ascended  by  staircases  between  the 
seats  and  the  outer  wall  of  the  building.  From  hence  the  women 
again  ascended  to  the  upper  tier,  which  was  divided  into  boxes, 
and  appropriated  to  them. 

The  construction  consists  for  the  most  part  of  the  rough 
masonry  called  o^ns  incertum^  with  quoins  of  squared  stone, 
and  some  trifling  restorations  of  rubble.  This  rude  mass  was 
probably  once  covered  with  a  more  sumptuous  facing  of  hewn 
stone;  but  there  are  now  no  other  traces  of  it  than  a  few  of  the 
key-stones,  on  one  of  which  a  chariot  and  two  horses  is  sculptured, 
on  an^.her  a  head;  besides  which  there  are  a  few  stars  on  the 
wedge-stones. 

At  each  end  of  the  ellipse  were  entrances  into  the  arena  for 
the  combatants,  through  which  the  dead  bodies  were  dragged  out 
into  the  spoliarium.  These  were  also  the  principal  approaches  to 
the  lower  ranges  of  seats,  occupied  by  the  senators,  magistrates, 
and  knights,  by  means  of  corridors  to  the  right  and  left  which 
ran  round  the  arena.  The  ends  of  these  passages  were  secured 
by  metal  gratings  against  the  intrusion  of  wild  beasts.  In  the 
northern  one  are  nine  places  for  pedestals  to  form  a  line  of  sep- 
aration, dividing  the  entrance  into  two  parts  of  unequal  breadth. 
The  seats  are  elevated  above  the  arena  upon  a  high  podium  or 
parapet,  upon  which,  when   the  building  was  first  opened,  there 


THEATRES. 


139 


remained  several  inscriptions,  containing  tlie  names  of  duumvirs 
who  had  presided  upon  ditierent  occasions.  There  were  also 
paintings  in  fresco,  one  representing  a  tigress  hghting  with  a  wild 
boar;  another,  a  stag  chased  by  a  lioness;  another,  a  battle  be- 
tween a  bull  and  bear.  Other  subjects  comprised  candelabra,  a 
distribution  of  palms  among  the  gladiators,  winged  genii,  min- 
strels, and  musicians;  but  all  disappeared  soon  after  their  ex- 
posure to  the  atmosphere.  The  amphitheatre  comprises  twenty- 
four  rows  of  seats,  and  about  20,000  feet  of  sitting-room. 

It  may  be  observed  that  the  arena  of  the  amphitheatre  of 
Pompeii  appears  to  be  formed  of  the  natural  surface  of  the  earth, 
and  has  none  of  those  vast  substructions  observable  at  Pozzuoli 
and  Capua.  It  does  not,  therefore,  appear  capable  of  being 
turned  into  a  Naumachia,  nor  indeed  would  it  have  been  easy  to 
find  there  water  enough  for  such  a  purpose. 

In  the  Roman  theatre  the  construction  of  the  orchestra  and 
stage  was  different  trom  that  of  the  Greeks.  By  the  construction 
peculiar  to  the  Roman  theatre,  the  stage  was  brought  nearer  to 
the  audience  (the  arc  not  exceeding  a  semi-circle),  and  made  con- 
siderably deeper  than  in  the  Greek  theatre.  The  length  of  the 
stage  was  twice  the  diam.eter  of  the  orchestra.  The  Roman  or- 
chestra contained  no  thymele.  The  back  of  the  stage,  or  pro- 
scenium, was  adorned  with  niches,  and  columns,  and  friezes  of 
great  richness,  as  may  be  seen  in  some  of  the  theatres  of  Asia 
Minor,  and  in  the  larger  theatre  at  Pompeii,  which  belong  to  the 
Roman  period. 

On  the  whole,  however,  the  construction  of  a  Roman  theatre 
resembled  that  of  a  Greek  one.  The  Senate,  and  other  dis- 
tinguished persons,  occupied  circular  ranges  of  seats  within  the 
orchestra;  the  praetor  had  a  somewhat  higher  seat.  The  space 
between  the  orchestra  and  the  tirst  prcecinctio,  usually  consisting 
of  fourteen  seats,  was  reserved  for  the  equestrian  order,  tribunes, 
etc.     Above  them  were  the  seats  of  the  plebeians.      Soldiers  were 


140 


AMUSEMENTS. 


separated  from  the  citizens.  Women  were  appointed  b}'  Augus- 
tus to  sit  in  tlie  portico,  which  encompassed  the  whole.  Behind 
the  scenes  were  the  postscenium,  or  retiring-room,  and  porticoes, 
to  which,  in  case  of  sudden  showers,  the  people  retreated  from 
the  theatre. 

The  earliest  theatres  at  Rome  were  temporary  buildings  of 
wood.  A  magniticent  wooden  theatre,  built  by  M.  ^milius 
Scaurus,  in  his  edileship,  B.C.  58,  is  described  by  Pliny.  In  55 
B.C.,  Cn.  Pompe}^  built  the  first  stone  theatre  at  Rome,  near  the 
Campus  Martins.  A  temple  of  Venus  Victrix,  to  whom  he  dedi- 
cated the  whole  building,  was  erected  at  the  highest  part  of  the 
cavea. 

The  next  permanent  theatre  was  built  by  Augustus,  and 
named  after  his  favorite,  the  young  Marcellus,  son  of  his  sister 
Octavia.  Vitruvius  is  generally  reported  to  have  been  the  arch- 
itect of  this  building,  which  would  contain  30,000  persons.  The 
audience  part  was  a  semi-circle  410  feet  in  diameter.  Twelve 
arches  of  its  external  wall  still  remain.  From  marks  still  vis- 
ible ill  the  large  theatre  at  Pompeii,  the  place  reserved  for  each 
spectator  was  about  13  inches.  This  theatre  contained  5,000. 
The  theatre  of  Pompeii,  at  Rome,  contained  40,000.  The  the- 
atre of  Scaurus  is  said  to  have  contained  80,000.  The  Romans 
surpassed  the  Greeks  in  the  grandeur  and  magnificence  of  these 
buildings.  Thev  built  them  in  almost  all  their  towns.  Remains 
of  them  are  found  in  almost  every  country  where  the  Romans 
carried  their  rule.  One  of  the  most  striking  Roman  provincial 
theatres  is  that  of  Orange,  in  the  south  of  France. 

Odeum  was  a  building  intended  for  the  recitations  of  rhap- 
sodists  and  the  performances  of  citharsedists,  before  the  theatre 
was  in  existence.  In  its  general  form  and  arrangements  the 
odeum  was  very  similar  to  the  theatre.  There  were,  however, 
some  characteristic  ditferenccs.  The  odeum  was  much  smaller 
than  the  theatre,  and  it  was  roofed  over.     The  ancient  and  origi- 


THEATRES. 


141 


nal  Odeum  of  Athens  in  the  Agora  was  probably  erected  in  the 
time  of  Hipparchus,  who,  according  to  Plato,  tirst  introduced  at 
Athens  the  poems  of  Homer,  and  caused  rhapsodists  to  recite 
them  during  the  Panathensea.  There  were  two  others  in  Athens 
— the  Odeum  of  Pericles,  and  that  of  Herodes  Atticus.  The 
Odeum  of  Pericles  was  built  in  imitation  of  the  tent  of  Xerxes. 
It  was  burnt  by  Sylla,  but  was  restored  in  exact  imitation  of  the 
original  building.  It  lay  at  the  east  side  of  the  theatre  of  Diony- 
sus. The  Odeum  of  Herodes  Atticus  was  built  by  him  in  mem- 
ory  of  his  departed  wife  Regilla,  whose  name  it  commonly  bore. 
It  lies  under  the  southwest  angle  of  the  Acropolis.  Its  greatest 
diameter  within  the  walls  was  240  feet,  and  it  is  calculated  to 
have  held  about  8,000  persons.  There  were  odea  in  several  of 
the  towns  of  Greece,  in  Corinth,  Patrse,  and  at  Smyrna,  Ephesus 
and  other  places  of  Asia  Minor.  There  were  odea  also  in  Rome; 
one  was  built  by  Domitian,  and  a  second  by  Trajan.  There 
are  ruins  of  an  Odeum  in  the  villa  of  Adrian,  at  Tivoli  and  at 
Pompeii. 

Remains  of  amphitheatres  are  found  in  several  cities  of 
Etruria.  The  amphitheatre  of  Sutri  is  considered  to  be  pecu- 
liarly Etruscan  in  its  mode  of  construction.  It  is  cut  out  of  the 
tufa  rock,  and  was  no  doubt  used  by  that  people  for  festal  repre- 
sentations long  before  Rome  attempted  anything  of  the  kind.  The 
Romans  copied  these  edifices  from  the  Etruscans.  We  have  his- 
torical evidence,  also,  that  gladiatorial  combats  had  an  Etruscan 
origin,  and  were  borrowed  by  the  Romans. 

Amphitheatres  were  peculiar  to  the  Romans.  The  gladia- 
torial shows,  and  the  chase  and  combats  of  wild  beasts  with 
which  the  amphitheatre  is  always  connected,  were  at  first  given 
in  the  circus.  Its  unsuitableness  for  such  sports  determined  Julius 
Caesar,  in  his  dictatorship,  to  construct  a  wooden  theatre  in  the 
Campus  Martins,  built  especially  for  hunting.  Caius  Scribonius 
Curio    built   the   first   amphitheatre,  for  the    celebration    of    his 


142  AMUSEMENTS. 

father's  funeral  games.  It  was  composed  of  two  theatres  of 
wood,  placed  on  pi\'ots,  so  that  they  could  be  turned  roi  nd» 
spectators  and  all,  and  placed  face  to  face,  thus  forming  a  double 
theatre,  or  amphitheatre,  which  ending  suggested  its  elliptical 
shape.  Statilius  Taurus,  the  friend  of  Augustus,  B.C.  30,  erected 
a  more  durable  amphitheatre,  partly  of  stone  and  partly  of  wood. 
in  the  Campus  Martins.  Others  were  afterwards  built  by  Cali- 
S^ula  and  Nero.  The  amphitheatre  of  Nero  was  of  wood,  and 
In  the  Campus  Martius. 

The  assembled  people  in  a  crowded  theatre  must  have  been 
an  imposing  spectacle,  in  which  the  gorgeous  colors  of  the  dresses 
were  blended  with  the  azure  of  a  southern  sky.  No  antique  ren- 
dering of  this  subject  remains.  The  spectators  began  to  assem- 
ble at  early  dawn,  for  each  wished  to  secure  a  good  seat,  after 
paying  his  entrance  fee.  This,  not  exceeding  two  oboloi,  was 
payable  to  the  builder  or  manager  of  the  theatre.  After  the 
erection  of  stone  theatres  at  Athens,  this  entrance  fee  was  paid 
for  the  poorer  classes  by  Government,  and  formed,  indeed,  one  of 
the  heaviest  items  of  the  budget.  For  not  only  at  the  Dionysian 
ceremonies,  but  on  many  other  festive  occasions,  the  people 
clamored  for  free  admission,  confirmed  in  their  demands  by 
the  demagogues.  Frequently  the  money  reserved  for  the 
emergency  of  a  war  had  to  be  spent  for  this  purpose. 
The  seats  in  a  theatre  were,  of  course,  not  all  equally 
good,  and  their  prices  varied  accordingl}'.  The  police  of 
the  theatre  had  to  take  care  that  everybody  took  his  seat  in  the 
row  marked  on  his  ticket.  Most  of  the  spectators  were  men. 
In  older  times  women  were  allowed  only  to  attend  at  tragedies, 
the  coarse  jokes  of  the  comedy  being  deemed  unfit  for  the  ears 
of  Athenian  ladies.  Only  hetairai  made  an  exception  to  this  rule. 
It  is  almost  certain  that  the  seats  of  men  and  women  were  sepa- 
rate. Boys  were  allowed  to  witness  both  trag^edies  and  comedies. 
Whether  slaves   were   admitted   amongst   the  spectators  seems 


THEATRES. 


H3. 


doubtful.  As  pedagogues  were  not  allowed  to  enter  the  school- 
room, it  seems  likely  that  they  had  also  to  leave  the  theatre  after 
having  shown  their  young  masters  to  their  seats.  Neither  were 
the  slaves  carrying  the  cushions  for  their  masters'  seats  admitted 
amongst  the  spectators.  It  is,  however,  possible  that  when  the 
seats  became  to  be  for  sale,  certain  classes  of  slaves  were  allowed 
to  visit  the  theatre.  Favorite  poets  and  actors  were  rewarded 
with  applause  and  flowers;  while  bad  performers  had  to  submit 
to  whistling,  and,  possibly,  other  worse  signs  of  public  indigna- 
tion. Greek  audiences  resembled  those  of  southern  Europe  at 
the  present  day  in  the  vivacity  of  their  demonstrations,  which 
were  even  extended  to  public  characters  amongst  the  spectators 
on  their  clearing  the  theatre. 

Vitruvius  has  given  some  minute  directions,  strongly  illustra- 
tive of  the  importance  of  the  subject,  for  choosing  a  proper  situa- 
tion for  a  theatre.  '"'■  When  the  Forum  is  finished,  a  healthy 
situation  must  be  sought  for,  wherein  the  theatre  may  be  erected 
to  exhibit  sports  on  the  festival  days  of  the  immortal  gods.  For 
the  spectators  are  detained  in  their  seats  by  the  entertainment  of 
the  games,  and  remaining  quiet  for  a  long  time,  their  pores  are 
opened,  and  imbibe  the  draughts  of  air,  which,  if  they  come  from 
marshy  or  otherwise  unhealthy  places,  will  pour  injurious  humors 
into  the  body.  Neither  must  it  front  the  south;  for  when  the 
sun  fills  the  concavity,  the  inclosed  air,  unable  to  escape  or  circu- 
late, is  heated,  and  then  extracts  and  dries  up  the  juices  of  the 
body.  It  is  also  to  be  carefully  observed  that  the  place  be  not 
unfitted  to  transmit  sound,  but  one  in  which  the  voice  may  ex- 
pand as  clearly  as  possible." 

The  ancient  scene  was  not,  like  that  ot  the  modern  stage, 
capable  of  being  shifted.  It  consisted  of  a  solid  building  (scena 
stabilh\  representing  the  facade  of  a  royal  palace,  and  adorned 
with  the  richest  architectural  ornaments.  It  was  built  of  stone, 
or  brick   cased  with   marble,  and  had  three   doors,  of  which  the 


144 


AMUSEMENTS. 


middle  one,  called  porta  regia^  larger  and  handsomer  than  the 
others,  was  supposed  to  form  the  entrance  to  the  palace.  This 
was  used  only  in  the  representation  of  tragedies,  and  then  only  by 
the  principal  personages  of  the  drama.  The  door  in  the  right 
wino-  was  appropriated  to  inferior  personages,  and  that  on  the  left 
to  foreigners  or  persons  coming  from  abroad.  In  our  plan,  the 
five  angles  of  the  triangles  not  yet  disposed  of  determine  the  dis- 
position of  the  scene.  Opposite  the  centre  one  are  the  regal 
doors ;  on  each  side  are  those  by  which  the  secondary  characters 
entered.  Behind  the  scene,  as  in  the  Greek  theatre,  there  were 
apartments  for.the  actors  to  retire  into;  and  under  it  were  vaults 
or  cellars,  which,  as  in  the  modern  stage,  served  for  the  entrance 
of  ghosts,  or  the  appliance  of  any  needful  machinery.  The  fro- 
scenium^  or  space  between  the  orchestra  and  the  scene,  answer- 
ing to  our  stage,  though  deeper  than  the  Greek,  was  of  no  great 
depth,  which  was  not  required  for  the  performance  of  ancient 
dramas,  in  which  only  a  few  personages  appeared  on  the  stage  at 
once.  Besides,  in  the  absence  of  any  roof,  the  voice  of  the  per- 
formers would  have  been  lost  if  the  stage  had  been  too  deep. 
That  of  Pompeii  is  only  about  twenty-one  feet  broad,  though  its 
length  is  one  hundred  and  nine. 

Along  the  front  of  the  stage,  and  between  it  and  the  orchestra, 
runs  a  tolerably  deep  linear  opening,  the  receptacle  for  the 
aulceum^  or  curtain,  the  fashion  of  which  was  just  the  reverse  of 
ours,  as  it  had  to  be  depressed  instead  of  elevated  when  the  play 
began.  This  operation,  performed  by  machinery  of  which  we 
have  no  clear  account,  was  called  aulceum  premere.  as  in  the 
well-known  line  of  Horace  :  * 

Quatuor  aut  plures  aulaja  premuntur  in  horas. 

It  should,  however,  be  mentioned  that  the  ancients  seem  also  to 
have  had  movable  scener}-  (seer? a  (Jvctilis)^  to  alter  the  appearance 

*  Epp.  ii.  1,  189. 


THEATRES. 


H5 


of  the  permanent  scene  when  required.     This  must  have  consisted 
of  painted  board  or  canvas. 

Another  method  of  illusion  was  by  the  use  of  masks.  These 
were  rendered  necessary  by  the  vastness  of  the  ancient  theatres, 
and  the  custom  of  performing  in  the  open  air. 

In  the  eastern  portico  of  the  Triangular  Forum  are  four  en- 
trances to  different  parts  of  the  greater  theatre.  The  first  two 
as  you  enter,  lead  into  a  large  circular  corridor  surroundino-  the 
whole  cavea;  the  third  opens  on  an  area  behind  the  scene,  from 
which  there  is  a  communication  with  the  orchestra  and  privileo-ed 
seats;  the  fourth  led  down  a  long  flight  of  steps,  at  the  bottom 
of  which  you  turn,  on  the  right,  into  the  soldiers'  quarter,  on  the 
left,  into  the  area  already  mentioned.  The  corridor  is  arched 
over.  It  has  two  other  entrances,  one  by  a  large  passage  from 
the  east  side,  another  from  a  smaller  passage  on  the  north.  Six 
inner  doors,  called  vomitoria,  opened  on  an  equal  number  of  stair- 
cases which  ran  down  to  the  first  praecinctio.  The  theatre  is 
formed  upon  the  slope  of  a  hill,  the  corridor  being  the  highest 
part,  so  that  the  audience  upon  entering  descended  at  once  to 
their  seats,  and  the  vast  staircases,  which  conducted  to  the  upper 
seats  of  the  theatres  and  amphitheatres  at  Rome,  were  saved. 
By  the  side  of  the  first  entrance  is  a  staircase  which  led  up  to  the 
women's  gallery  above  the  corridor;  here  the  seats  were  parti- 
tioned into  compartments,  like  our  boxes.  The  benches  were 
about  one  foot  three  inches  high  and  two  feet  four  inches  wide. 
One  foot  three  inches  and  a  half  was  allowed  to  each  spectator, 
as  may  be  ascertained  in  one  part,  where  the  divisions  are  marked 
off  and  numbered.  There  is  space  to  contain  about  five  thou- 
sand persons.  Here  the  middle  classes  sat,  usually  upon  cushions 
which  they  brought  with  them;  the  men  of  rank  sat  in  the  or- 
chestra below,  on  chairs  of  state  carried  thither  by  their  slaves 
Flanking  the  orchestra,  and  elevated  considerably  above  it,  are 
observable  two  divisions,  appropriated,  one  perhaps  to  the  pro- 
lo 


1^6  AMUSEMENTS. 

consul,  or  duumvirs  and  their  officers,  the  other  to  the  vestal 
viro-ins,  or  to  the  use  of  the  person  who  gave  the  entertainments. 
This  is  the  more  Hkely,  because  in  the  smaller  theatre,  where 
these  boxes,  if  we  may  call  them  so,  are  also  found,  they  have  a 
communication  with  the  stage. 

This  theatre  appears  to  have  been  entirely  covered  with 
marble;  the  benches  of  the  cavea  were  of  marble^,  the  orchestra 
was  of  marble,  the  scene  with  all  its  ornaments  was  also  of 
marble;  and  yet  of  this  profusion  of  marble  only  a  few  fragments 
remain. 

It  appears,  from  an  inscription  found  in  it,  to  have  been 
erected,  or  much  improved,  by  one  Holconius  Rufus.  Upon  the 
first  step  of  the  orchestra  was  another  inscription,  composed  of 
bronze  letters  let  into  the  marble.  The  metal  has  been  carried 
away,  but  the  cavities  in  the  marble  still  remain.  They  were 
placed  so  as  paitly  to  encompass  a  statue,  and  run  thus : 

M.  HOLCONIO.  M.  F.  RVFO.  II.  V.I.D.  QVINQVIENS.  ITER 

QVINQ.  TRIE.  MIL.  A.  P.  FLAMEN.  AVG. 

PATR.  COLON,  D.D. 

signifyini]^,  that  the  colony  dedicated  this  to  its  patron,  M.  Hol- 
conius Rufus,  son  of  Marcus:  then  follow  his  titles.  In  the 
middle  of  this  inscription  is  a  vacant  space,  where  probably  stood 
the  statue  of  Holconius,  as  the  cramps,  by  which  something  was 
fastened,  st'ill  remain.  Or  possibly  it  may  have  been  an  altar,  as 
it  was  the  custom  among  the  ancients  to  sacrifice  to  Bacchus  m 
the  theatre. 


t^ojviy\N  !]pATHp. 


After  the  excavations  at  Pompeii  had  been  carried  on  to  a 
considerable  extent,  it  was  matter  of  surprise  that  no  pubHc  baths 
were  discovered,  particularly  as  they  were  sure  almost  to  be 
placed  in  the  most  frequented  situation,  and  therefore  probably 
somewhere  close  to  the  Forum.  The  wonder  was  increased  by  the 
small  number  of  baths  found  in  private  houses.  That  public  baths 
existed,  was  long  ago  ascertained  from  an  inscription  discov' ered  in 
1749,  purporting  that  one  Januarius,  an  enfranchised  slave,  sup- 
plied the  baths  of  Marcus  Crassus  Frugi  with  water,  both  fresh 
and  salt.  At  length  an  excavation  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Forum 
brought  to  light  a  suite  of  public  baths,  admirably  arranged, 
spacious,  highly  decorated,  and  superior  to  any  even  in  the  most 
considerable  of  our  modern  cities.  They  are  fortunately  in  good 
preservation,  and  throw  much  light  on  what  the  ancients,  and 
especially  Vitruvius,  have  written  on  the  subject. 

Inscription  in  the  Court  of  the  Baths. 

DEDICATIONE.  THERMARUM,  MUNERIS.  CN^I. 

ALLEL  NIGIDII.  MATI.  VENATIO.  ATETLET^. 

SPARSIONES.     VELA.     ERUNT.     MAIO. 

PRINCIPI.  COLONIC.  FELICITER. 

"  On  occasion  of  the  dedicatiou  of  the  baths,  at  the  expense  of  Cnseus  Alleius  Nigi- 
diits  Mains,  there  will  be  the  cha-eof  wild  beasts,  athletic  contests,  spriukliug  of  per- 
fumes, and  an  awning.     Prosperity  to  Mains,  chief  of  the  colony." 

This  announcement  of  a  public  entertainment  is  written  on  a 
wall  of  the  court  of  the  baths,  to  the  right  hand  on  entering 

The  provincial  towns,  imitating  the  example  of  Rome,  and 

147 


148  AMUSEMENTS. 

equally  fond  of  all  sorts  of  theatrical  and  gladiatorial  exhibitions^ 
of  which  we  have  spoken  at  length  in  describing  the  various 
theatres  of  Pompeii,  usually  solemnized  the  completion  of  any 
editices  or  monuments  erected  for  the  public  service  by  dedi- 
catino-  them.  This  ceremony  was  nothing  more  than  opening  or 
exhibiting  the  building  to  the  people  in  a  solemn  manner,  grati- 
fying them  at  the  same  time  with  largesses  and  various  spectacles. 
When  a  private  man  had  erected  the  building,  he  himself  was 
usually  the  person  who  dedicated  it.  When  undertaken  by  the 
public  order  and  at  the  public  cost,  the  citizens  deputed  some 
mao-istrate  or  rich  and  popular  person  to  perform  the  ceremony. 
In  the  capital  vast  sums  were  expended  in  this  manner;  and  a 
man  who  aspired  to  become  a  popular  leader  could  scarcely  lay 
out  his  money  to  better  interest  than  in  courting  favor  by  the 
prodigality  of  his  expenses  on  these  or  similar  occasions.  It  ap- 
pears, then,  that  upon  the  completion  of  the  baths,  th";  Pompeians 
committed  the  dedication  to  Cnseus  Alleius  Nigidius  Maius,  who 
entertained  them  with  a  sumptuous  spectacle. 

There  were  combats  (yenatio)  between  wild  beasts,  or  be- 
cween  beasts  and  men,  a  cruel  sport,  to  which  the  Romans  were 
passionately  addicted;  athletic  games  (athletce)^  sprinkling  of  per- 
fumes {sparsiones)^  and  it  was  further  engaged  that  an  awning 
should  be  raised  over  the  amphitheatre.  The  convenience  of 
such  a  covering  will  be  evident,  no  less  as  a  protection  against 
sun  than  rain  under  an  Italian  sky;  the  merit  of  the  promise, 
which  may  seem  but  a  trifle,  will  be  understood  by  considering 
the  difficulty  of  stretching  a  covering  over  the  immense  area  of 
an  ancient  amphitheatre.  We  may  observe,  by  the  way,  that 
representations  of  hunting  and  of  combats  between  wild  beasts 
are  common  subjects  of  the  paintings  of  Pompeii.  A  combat 
between  a  lion  and  a  horse,  and  another,  between  a  bear  and  a 
bull,  have  been  found  depicted  in  the  amphitheatre.  The  velarium, 
or  awning,  is  advertised  in  all  the  inscriptions  yet  found  which  give 


ROMAN    BATHS. 


149 


notice  of  public  games.  Athletse  and  sparsiones  appear  in  no 
other.  We  learn  from  Seneca  that  the  perfumes  were  dissemi- 
nated by  being  mixed  with  boiling  water,  and  then  placed  in  the 
centre  of  the  amphitheatre,  so  that  the  scents  rose  with  the  steam, 
and  soon  became  diffused  throughout  the  building. 

There  is  some  reason  to  suppose  that  the  completion  and 
dedication  of  the  baths  preceded  the  destruction  of  the  city  but  a 
short  time,  from  the  inscription  being  found  perfect  on  the  wall 
of  the  baths,  for  it  was  the  custom  to  write  these  notices  in  the 
most  public  places,  and  after  a  very  short  season  they  were  cov- 
ered over  by  others,  as  one  billsticker  defaces  the  labors  of  his 
predecessors.  This  is  abundantly  evident  even  in  the  present 
ruined  state  of  the  town,  especially  at  the  corners  of  the  principal 
streets,  where  it  is  easy  to  discover  one  inscription  painted  over 
another. 

But  to  return  to  the  Eaths.  They  occupy  almost  an  entire 
block,  forming  an  irregular  quadrangle;  the  northern  front,  fac^ 
ing  to  the  Street  of  the  Baths,  being  about  162  feet  in  length,  the 
southern  front  about  93  feet,  and  the  average  depth  about  174 
feet.  They  are  divided  into  three  separate  and  distinct  compart- 
ments, one  of  which  was  appropriated  to  the  fireplaces  and  to  the 
servants  of  the  establishment;  the  other  two  were  occupied  each 
by  a  set  of  baths,  contiguous  to  each  other,  similar  and  adapted 
to  the  same  purposes,  and  supplied  with  heat  and  water  from  the 
same  furnace  and  from  the  same  reservoir.  It  is  conjectured  that 
the  most  spacious  of  them  was  for  the  use  of  the  men,  the  lesser 
for  that  of  the  women.  The  apartments  and  passages  are  paved 
with  white  marble  in  mosaic.  It  appears,  from  Varro  and 
Vitruvius,  that  baths  for  men  and  women  were  originally  united, 
as  well  for  convenience  as  economy  of  fuel,  but  were  separated 
afterwards  for  the  preservation  of  morals,  and  had  no  communi- 
cation except  that  from  the  furnaces.  We  shall  call  these  the  old 
Bat' IS  by  way  of  distinction,  and  because  they  were  first  diso  'v 


150  AMUSEMENTS. 

ered;  but  in  reality,  the  more  recently  discovered  Stabian  Baths 
may  probably  be  the  more  ancient. 

It  should  be  observed  here  that  the  old  Pompeian  thermcB 
are  adapted  solely  to  the  original  purposes  of  a  bath,  namely,  a 
place  for  bathing  and  washing.  They  can  not  therefore  for  a 
moment  be  compared  to  the  baths  constructed  at  Rome  during 
the  period  of  the  empire,  of  which  such  magnificent  remains  may 
still  be  seen  at  the  baths  of  Diocletian,  and  especially  at  those  of 
Caracalla.  In  these  vast  establishments  the  bath  formed  only  a 
part  of  the  entertainment  provided.  There  were  also  spacious 
porticoes  for  walking  and  conversing,  halls  and  courts  for  athletic 
games  and  gladiatorial  combats,  apartments  for  the  lectures  and 
recitations  of  philosophers,  rhetoricians  and  poets.  In  short,  they 
formed  a  sort  of  vast  public  club,  in  which  almost  every  species 
of  amusement  was  provided.  In  the  more  recently  discovered 
baths,  called  the  Thermse  Stabianse,  there  is  indeed  a  large  quad- 
rangular court,  or  palaestra,  which  may  have  served  for  gymnas- 
tic exercises,  and  among  others  for  the  game  of  ball,  as  appears 
from  some  large  balls  of  stone  having  been  found  in  it.  Yet  even 
this  larger  establishment  makes  but  a  very  slight  approach  to  the 
magnificence  and  luxury  of  a  Roman  bath. 

The  tepidarium,  or  warm  chamber,  was  so  called  from 
a  warm,  but  soft  and  mild  temperature,  whidi  prepared  the 
bodies  of  the  bathers  for  the  more  intense  heat  which  they  were 
to  undergo  in  the  vapor  and  hot  baths;  and,  vice  versa,  softened 
the  transition  from  the  hot  bath  to  the  external  air.  The  wall  is 
divided  into  a  number  of  niches  or  compartments  by  Telamones, 
two  feet  high,  in  high  relief,  and  supporting  a  rich  cornice.  These 
are  male,  as  Caryatides  are  female  statues  placed  to  perform  the 
office  of  pillars.  By  the  Greeks  they  were  named  Atlantes,  from 
the  well-known  fable  of  Atlas  supporting  the  heavens.  Here 
they  are  made  of  terra-cotta,  or  baked  clay,  incrusted  with  the 
finest  marble  stucco.     Their  only  covering  is  a  girdle  round  the 


ROMAN    BATHS. 


15i 


loins;  they  have  been  painted  flesh- color,  with  black  hair  and 
beards;  the  moulding  of  the  pedestal  and  the  baskets  on  their 
heads  were  in  imitation  ol  gold;  and  the  pedestal  itself,  as  well 
as  the  wall  behind  them  and  the  niches  for  the  reception  of  the 
clothes  of  the  bathers,  were  colored  to  resemble  red  porphyry. 
Six  of  these  niches  are  closed  up  without  any  apparent  reason. 


RECEPTION  TO  THE  BATHS  (at  J^ompeO). 

The  ceiling  is  worked  in  stucco,  in  low  relief,  with  scattered 
figures  and  ornaments  of  little  flying  genii,  delicately  relieved  on 
medallions,  with  foliage  carved  round  them.  The  ground  is 
painted,  sometimes  red  and  sometimes  blue.  The  room  is  lighted 
by  a  window  two  feet  six  inches  high  and  three  feet  wide,  in  the 
bronze  frame  of  which  were  found  set  four  very  beautiful  panes 
of  glass  fastened  by  small  nuts  and  screws,  very  ingeniously  con- 
trived, with  a  view  to  remove  the  glass  at  pleasure.  In  this  room 
was  found  a  brazier,  seven  feet  long  and  two  feet  six  inches  broad, 
made  entirely  of  bronze,  with  the  exception  of  an  iron  lining. 
The  two  front  legs  are  winged  sphinxes,  terminating  in  lions' 


152  AMUSEMENTS. 

pawc,  the  two  other  legs  are  plain,  being  intended  to  stand 
against  the  wall.  The  bottom  is  formed  with  bronze  bars,  on 
which  are  laid  bricks  supporting  pumice-stones  for  the  reception 
of  charcoal.  There  is  a  sort  of  false  battlement  worked  on  the 
rim,  and  in  the  middle  a  cow  is  to  be  seen  in  high  relief  Three 
bronze  benches  also  were  found,  alike  in  form  and  pattern.  They 
are  one  foot  four  inches  high,  one  foot  in  width,  and  about  six 
feet  long,  supported  by  four  legs,  terminating  in  the  cloven  hoofs 
of  a  cow,  and  ornamented  at  the  upper  ends  with  the  heads  of 
the  same  animal.  Upon  the  seat  is  inscribed,  M.  NIGIDIUS, 
VACCULA.  P.  S. 

Varro,  in  his  book  upon  rural  affairs,  tells  us  that  many  of 
the  surnames  of  the  Roman  families  had  their  origin  in  pastoral 
life,  and  especially  are  derived  from  the  animals  to  whose  breed- 
ing they  paid  most  attention.  As,  for  instance,  the  Porcii  took 
their  name  from  their  occupation  as  swine-herds;  the  Ovini  from 
their  care  of  sheep;  the  Caprilli,  of  goats;  the  Equarii,  of 
horses;  the  Tauri,  of  bulls,  etc.  We  may  conclude,  therefore, 
that  the  family  of  this  Marcus  Vaccula  were  originally  cow- 
keepers,  and  that  the  figures  of  cows  so  plentifully  impressed  on 
all  the  articles  which  he  presented  to  the  baths  are  a  sort  of  can- 
tino-  arms^  to  borrow  an  expression  from  heraldry,  as  in  Rome 
the  family  Toria  caused  a  bull  to  be  stamped  on  their  money. 

A  doorway  led  from  the  tepidarium  into  the  caldarium,  or 
vapor-bath.  It  had  on  one  side  the  laconicum,  containing  the 
vase  called  labrum.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  was 
the  hot  bath  called  lavacrum.  Here  it  is  necessary  to  refer 
to  the  words  of  Vitruvius  as  explanatory  of  the  structure  of  the 
apartments  (cap.  xi.  lib.  v.):  "  Here  should  be  placed  the  vaulted 
sweating-room,  twice  the  length  of  its  width,  which  should  have 
at  each  extremity,  on  one  end  the  laconicum^  made  as  described 
above,  on  the  other  end  the  hot  bath."  This  apartment  is  ex- 
actly as  described,  twice  the  length  of  its  width,   exclusively  of 


ROMAN    BATHS. 


153 


the  laconicum  at  one  end  and  the  hot  bath  at  the  other.  The 
pavement  and  walls  of  the  whole  were  hollowed  to  admit  the 
heat. 

The  labrum  was  a  great  basin  or  round  vase  of  white 
marble,  rather  more  than  five  feet  in  diameter,  into  which  the 
hot  water  bubbled  up  through  a  pipe  in  its  centre,  and  served 
for  the  partial  ablutions  of  those  who  took  the  vapor-bath.  It 
was  raised  about  three  feet  six  inches  above  the  level  of  the  pave- 
ment, on  a  round  base  built  of  small  pieces  of  stone  or  lava, 
stuccoed  and  colored  red,  five  feet  six  inches  in  diameter,  and  has 
Avithin  it  a  bronze  inscription,  which  runs  thus: 

CN^O.  MELISS^O.  CN^I.  FILIO.  APRO.  MARCO.  STAIO.  MARUI.  FILIO. 
RUFO.  DUUMVIRIS.  ITERUM.  lURE.  DICUNDO.  LABRUM.  EX  DECURI- 
ONUM  DECRETO.  EX.  PECUNIA.  PUBLICA.  FACIE XDUM.  CURARUNT 
CONSTAT.   HS.     D.C.C.L. 

Relating  that  "  Cnseus  Melissseus  Aper,  son  of  Cnaeus  Aper,  Mar- 
cus Staius  Rufus,  son  of  M.  Rufus,  duumvirs  of  justice  for  the 
second  time,  caused  the  labrum  to  be  made  at  the  public  expense, 
by  order  of  the  Decurions.  It  cost  5,250  sesterces  "  (about 
$200).  There  is  in  the  Vatican  a  magnificent  porphyry  labrum 
found  in  one  of  the  imperial  baths ;  and  Baccius,  a  great  modern 
authority  on  baths,  speaks  of  labra  made  of  glass. 

This  apartment,  like  the  others,  is  well  stuccoed  and  painted 
yellow;  a  cornice,  highly  enriched  with  stucco  ornaments,  is  sup- 
ported by  fluted  pilasters  placed  at  irregular  intervals.  These 
are  red,  as  is  also  the  cornice  and  ceiling  of  the  laconicum,  which 
is  worked  in  stucco  with  little  figures  of  boys  and  animals. 

The  women's  bath  resembles  very  much  that  of  the  men, 
and  differs  only  in  being  smaller  and  less  ornamented.  It  is 
heated,  as  we  have  already  mentioned,  by  the  same  fire,  and  sup- 
plied with  water  from  the  same  boilers.  Near  the  entrance  is  an 
inscription  painted  in  red  letters.  All  the  rooms  yet  retain  in 
perfection  their  vaulted  roofs.     In  the  vestibule  are  seats  similar 


154  AMUSEMEN'J'b. 

to  those  which  have  been  described  in  the  men's  baths  as  appro- 
priated to  slaves  or  servants  of  the  estabHshment.  The  robing- 
room  contains  a  cold  bath;  it  is  painted  v^^ith  red  and  3'ellow  pil- 
asters alternating  with  one  another  on  a  blue  or  black  ground, 
and  has  a  light  cornice  ol  white  stucco  and  a  white  mosaic  pave- 
ment with  a  narrow  black  border.  There  are  accommodations  for 
ten  persons  to  undress  at  the  same  time.  The  cold  bath  is  much 
damaged,  the  wall  only  remaining  of  the  alveus,  which  is  square, 
the  whole  incrustation  of  marble  being  destro3^ed.  From  this 
room  we  pass  into  the  tepidarium,  about  twenty  feet  square, 
painted  yellow  with  red  pilasters,  lighted  by  a  small  window  far 
from  the  ground.  This  apartment  communicates  with  the  warm 
bath,  which,  like  the  men"'s,  is  heated  by  flues  formed  in  the  floors 
and  walls. 

There  are  in  this  room  paintings  of  grotesque  design  upon  a 
yellow  ground,  but  they  are  much  damaged  and  scarcely  visible. 
The  pavement  is  of  white  marble  laid  in  mosaic.  The  room  in 
its  general  arrangement  resembles  the  hot  bath  of  the  men;  it 
has  a  labrum  in  the  laconicum,  and  a  hot  bath  contiguous  to  the 
furnace.  The  hollow  pavement  and  the  flues  in  the  walls  are  al- 
most entirely  destroyed;  and  of  the  labrum,  the  foot,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  which  was  a  piece  of  the  leaden  conduit  that  introduced  the 
water,  alone  remains.  On  the  right  of  the  entrance  into  these 
women's  baths  is  a  wall  of  stone  of  great  thickness  and  in  a  good 
style  of  masonry. 

These  baths  are  so  well  arranged,  with  so  prudent  an 
economy  of  room  and  convenient  distribution  -of  their  parts,  and 
are  adorned  with  such  appropriate  elegance,  as  to  show  clearly 
the  intellect  and  resources  of  an  excellent  architect.  At  the  same 
time  some  errors  of  the  grossest  kind  have  been  committed,  such 
as  would  be  inexcusable  in  the  most  ignorant  workman;  as,  for 
instance,  the  symmetry  of  parts  has  been  neglected  where  the 
parts   correspond;  a  pilaster  is  cut  off"  by  a  door  which  passes 


155 


ANCIENT  BATii-EOOM.    (As  discovered). 


156  AMUSEMENTS. 

through  the  middle  of  it ;  and  other  mistakes  occur  which  might 
have  been  avoided  without  difficulty.  This  strange  mixture  of 
good  and  bad  taste,  of  skill  and  carelessness,  is  not  very  easily 
accounted  for,  but  it  is  of  constant  recurrence  in  Pompeii. 

Vitruvius  recommends  the  selecting  a  situation  for  baths  de- 
fended from  the  north  and  northwest  winds,  and  forming  windows 
opposite  the  south,  or  if  the  nature  of  the  ground  would  not  per- 
mit this,  at  least  towards  the  south,  because  the  hours  of  bath- 
ing used  by  the  ancients  being  from  after  mid-day  till  evening, 
those  who  bathed  could,  by  those  windows,  have  the  advantage 
of  the  rays  and  of  the  heat  of  the  declining  sun. 

For  this  reason  the  Pompeian  baths  hitherto  described  have 
the  greater  part  of  their  windows  turned  to  the  south,  and  are 
constructed  in  a  low  part  of  the  city,  where  the  adjoining  build- 
ings served  as  a  protection  to  them  from  the  inconvenience  of  the 
northwest  winds. 

Before  concluding  this  account  of  the  Stabian  baths,  we 
should  mention  that  under  the  portico,  near  the  entrance  to  the 
men's  baths,  was  found  a  sun-dial,  consisting  as  usual  of  a  half 
circle  inscribed  in  a  rectangle,  and  with  the  gnomon  in  perfect 
preservation.  It  was  supported  by  lion's  feet  and  elegantly  orna- 
mented. On  its  base  was  an  Oscan  inscription,  which  has  been 
interpreted  as  follows  by  Minervini:  Marius.  Atinius,  Marii  Al- 
ius, quaestor,  ex  multatitia  pecunia  conventus  decreto  fieri  man- 
davit.  That  is:  the  Quaestor  M.  Atinius,  in  accordance  with  a 
decree  of  the  assembly,  caused  it  to  be  made  out  of  money  levied 
by  fines.  The  title  of  "  Quaestor  "  seems  to  show  that  this  in- 
scription must  have  been  written  after  the  occupation  of  Pompeii 
by  the  Romans,  but  at  the  same  time  at  a  period  when  the 
Oscan  tongue  continued  to  be  generally  spoken.  The  fines  alluded 
to  were  probably  levied  for  breaches  of  the  rules  to  be  observed 
in  the  palaestra. 


^OCIAL  ^AME^  AND   ^PORT^. 

Jugglers  of  both  sexes,  either  single  or  in  gangs,  were  com' 
mon  all  over  Greece  putting  up  their  booths,  as  Xenophon  says, 
wherever  money  and  silly  people  could  be  found.  These  fre- 
quently amused  the  guests  at  drinking  feasts  with  their  tricks. 
The  reputation  of  this  class  of  people  was  anything  but  above 
suspicion,  as  is  proved  by  the  verse  of  Manetho  ("  Apotheles," 
IV.,  276),  in  which  they  are  described  as  the  "  birds  of  the  country, 
the  foulest  brood  of  the  city."  Their  tricks  were  innumerable, 
and  outvied  in  boldness  and  ingenuity  those  of  our  conjurors, 
barring,  of  course  such  as  are  founded  on  the  modern  discoveries 
of  natural  science.  Male  and  female  jugglers  jumped  forwards 
and  backwards  over  swords  or  tables ;  girls  threw  up  and  caught 
again  a  number  of  balls  or  hoops  to  the  accompaniment  of  a 
musical  instrument;  others  displayed  an  astounding  skill  with 
their  feet  and  toes  while  standing  on  their  hands.  Rope-dancers 
performed  the  most  dangerous  dances  and  salti- mortal i.  In  Rome 
even  elephants  were  trained  to  mount  the  rope.  Flying-machines 
of  a  construction  unknown  to  us  are  also  mentioned,  on  which 
bold  aeronauts  traversed  the  air.  Alkiphron  tells  a  story  about 
a  peasant  who,  on  seeing  a  juggler  pulling  little  bullets  from  the 
noses,  ears,  and  heads  of  the  spectators,  exclaimed :  "  Let  such  a 
beast  never  enter  my  yard,  or  else  everything  would  soon  disap- 
pear." Descriptions  of  these  tricks  are  frequent  in  ancient  wri- 
ters, particularly  in  the  indignant  invectives  of  the  early  fathers 

157 


158  AMUSEMENTS. 

of  the  Church.  Amongst  the  pictures  of  female  jugglers  in  all 
kinds  of  impossible  postures,  can  be  seen  a  girl  performing  the 
dangerous  sword-dance,  described  by  Plato.  It  consists  in  her 
turning  somersaults  forwards  and  backwards  across  the  points  ol 
three  swords  stuck  in  the  ground.  A  similar  picture  we  see  on 
a  vase  of  the  Berlin  Museum,  Another  vase  shows  a  female  jug- 
gler dressed  in  long  drawers  standing  on  her  hands,  and  filling 
with  her  icet  a  kantharos  from  a  kiater  placed  in  front  of  her. 
She  hoU'.s  the  handle  of  the  kantharos  with  the  toes  of  her  left 
foot,  VT/Je  the  toes  of  her  other  foot  cling  round  the  stem  of  the 
kyat^ja  used  for  drawing  the  liquoi-.  A  woman  sitting  in  front 
of  her  performs  a  game  with  three  baKs,  in  which  the  other  artiste 
also  seems  to  take  a  part.  In  another,  a  girl  in  a  rather  awkward 
position  is  shooting  an  arrow  from  a  bow. 

Of  social  games  played  by  the  topers  we  mention,  besides 
the  complicated  kottabos,  the  games  played  on  a  board  or  with 
dice.  Homer  aiready  mentions  a  game  of  the  former  class,  and 
names  Palamedes  as  its  inventor;  of  the  exact  nature  of  this  game 
we  know  little  or  nothing.  Neither  are  we  informed  of  the  de- 
tails of  another  kind  of  petteia  played  with  five  little  stones  on  a 
board  divided  by  five  lines. 

The  so-called  "  game  of  cities  "  seems  to  have  resembled  our 
chess  or  draughts.  The  board  was  divided  into  five  parts.  Each 
player  tried  to  checkmate  the  other  by  the  skillful  use  of  his  men. 
Games  of  hazard  with  dice  and  astragaloi  were  most  likely 
greater  favorites  with  the  topers  than  the  intellectual  ones  hitherto 
described.  The  number  of  dice  was  at  first  three,  afterwards 
two;  the  figures  on  the  parallel  sides  being  i  and  6,  2  and  5,  3 
and  4.  In  order  to  prevent  cheating,  they  were  cast  from  coni- 
cal beakers,  the  interior  of  which  was  formed  into  different  steps. 
Each  cast  had  its  name,  sixty-four  of  which  have  been  transmit- 
ted to  us  by  the  grammarians.  The  luckiest  cast,  each  of  the 
dice  showing  the  figure  6,  was  called  Aphrodite;  the  unluckiest, 


SOCIAL    GAMES    AND    SPORTS. 


159 


the  three  dice  showing  the  figure  i,  had  the  names  of  ''dog"  or 
"  wine ''  appHed  to  it. 

Another  game  of  a  similar  nature  was  played  with  the  so- 
called  astragaloi,  dice  of  a  lengthy  shape  made  of  the  knuckles 
of  animals.  Two  of  the  surfaces  were  flat,  the  third  being  raised, 
and  the  fourth  indented  slightly.  The  last-mentioned  side  was 
marked  i,  and  had,  amongst  many  other  names,  that  of  "  dog;" 
the  opposite  surface,  marked  6.  The  Latin  names  of  the  two 
other  sides  marked  3  and  4  were  suppiis  and  planus  respectively. 
The  figures  2  and  5  were  wanting  on  the  astragaloi,  the  narrow 
end-surfaces  not  being  counted.  The  number  of  astragaloi  used 
was  always  four,  being  the  same  as  in  the  game  of  dice.  Here 
also  the  luckiest  cast  was  called  Aphrodite,  with  which  at  the 
same  time  the  honor  of  king-of-the-feast  was  connected. 

Young  girls  liked  to  play  at  a  game  with  five  astragaloi,  or 
little  stones,  which  were  thrown  into  the  air  and  caught  on  the 
upper  surface  of  the  hand.  This  game  is  still  in  use  in  many 
countries.  We  possess  many  antique  representations  of  these 
various  games. 

Two  vase  paintings  show  soldiers  playing  at  draughts.  As- 
tragaloi and  dice  of  different  sizes,  some  with  the  figures  as  above 
described  on  them,  others  evidently  counterfeited,  are  preserved 
in  several  museums.  Of  larger  representations  we  mention  the 
marble  statue  of  a  girl  playing  with  astragaloi  in  the  Berlin 
Museum,  and  a  Pompeian  wall-painting  in  which  the  children  of 
Jason  play  the  same  game,  while  Medea  threatens  their  lives 
with  a  drawn  sword.  The  celebrated  masterpiece  of  Polykletes, 
representing  two  boys  playing  with  astragaloi,  formerly  in  the 
palace  of  Titus  in  Rome,  has  unfortunately  been  lost.  Another 
wall-painting  shows  in  the  foreground  Aglaia  and  Hileaira,  daugh- 
ters of  Niobe,  kneeling  and  playing  the  same  game. 

In  connection  with  these  social  games  we  mention  a  few 
other  favorite  amusements  of  the  Greeks.    The  existence  of  cock- 


l6o  AMUSEMENTS. 

fights  is  proved  by  vase-paintings,  gems,  and  written  evidence. 
It  was  a  favorite  pastime  with  both  old  and  young.  Themistokles, 
after  his  victory  over  the  Persians,  is  said  to  have  founded  an  an- 
nual entertainment  of  cock-fights,  which  made  both  these  and  the 
fights  of  quails  popular  among  the  Greeks.  The  breeding  of 
fighting-cocks  was  a  matter  of  great  importance,  Rhodes,  Chal- 
kis,  and  Media  being  particularly  celebrated  for  their  strong  and 
large  cocks.  In  order  to  increase  their  fury,  the  animals  were 
fed  with  garlic  previous  to  the  fight.  Sharp  metal  spurs  were  at- 
tached to  their  legs,  after  which  they  were  placed  on  a  table  with 
a  raised  border.  Very  large  sums  were  frequently  staked  on 
them  by  owners  and  spectators. 

Here,  again,  we  see  antique  customs  reproduced  by  various 
modern  nations.  The  Italian  game  of  morra  {il  ^iiico  aV. 
niorra  or  fare  alia  morra)  was  also  known  to  the  ancients.  Ii. 
it  both  players  open  their  clenched  right  hands  simultaneously 
with  the  speed  of  lightning,  whereat  each  has  to  call  out  the 
number  of  fingers  extended  by  the  other.  It  is  the  same  game 
which  figured  among  Egyptian  amusements.  Mimetic  dan- 
ces were  another  favorite  amusement  at  symposia.  They  mostly 
represented  mythological  scenes.  A  few  words  about  Greek 
dancing  ought  to  be  added. 

Homer  mentions  dancing  as  one  of  the  chief  delights  of  the 
feast;  he  also  praises  the  artistic  dances  of  the  Phaiakian  youths. 
This  proves  the  esteem  in  which  this  art  was  held  even  at  that 
early  period.  In  the  dances  of  the  Phaiakai,  all  the  young  men 
performed  a  circular  movement  round  a  singer  standing  in  the 
centre,  or  else  two  skilled  dancers  executed  a  -pas  de  deux. 
Homer^s  words  seem  to  indicate  that  the  rhythmical  motion  was 
not  limited  to  the  legs,  as  in  our  modern  dances,  but  extended  to 
the  upper  part  of  the  body  and  the  arms.  Perhaps  the  germs  of 
mimetic  art  may  be  looked  for  in  this  dance. 

According  to  Lucian,  the  aim  of  the  dance  was  to   express- 


SOCIAL    GAMES    AND    SPORTS.  l6l 

sentiment,  passion,  and  action  by  means  of  gestures.  It  soon  de- 
veloped into  highest  artistic  beauty,  combined  with  the  rhythmic 
grace  pecuHar  to  the  Greeks.  Like  the  gymnastic  and  agonistic 
arts,  the  dance  retained  its  original  purity  as  long  as  public  mor- 
ality prevailed  in  Greece:  its  connection  with  religious  worship 
preserved  it  from  neglect.  Gradually,  however,  here  also  mechan- 
ical virtuosity  began  to  supplant  true  artistic  principles. 

The  division  of  dances  according  to  their  warlike  or  religious 
character  seems  objectionable,  because  all  of  them  were  origi- 
nally connected  with  religious  worship.  The  distinction  between 
warlike  and  peaceful  dances  is  more  appropriate.  Among  the 
warlike  dances  particularly  adapted  to  the  Doric  character,  was 
the  oldest  and  that  most  in  favor.  It  dates  from  mythical  times. 
Pyrrhichos,  either  a  Kretan  or  Spartan  by  birth,  the  Dioskuroi, 
also  Pyrrhos,  the  son  of  Achilles,  are  mentioned  as  its  originators. 
The  Pyrrhic  dance,  performed  by  several  men  in  armor,  imitated 
the  movements  of  attack  and  defence.  The  various  positions  were 
defined  by  rule ;  hands  and  arms  played  an  important  part  in  the 
mimetic  action.  It  formed  the  chief  feature  of  the  Doric  gym- 
nopaidia  and  of  the  greater  and  lesser  Panathenaia  at  Athens. 
The  value  attached  to  it  in  the  latter  city  is  proved  by  the  fact 
of  the  Athenians  making  Phrynichos  commander-in-chief  owing 
to  the  skill  displayed  by  him  in  the  Pyrrhic  dance. 

Later  a  Bacchic  element  was  introduced  into  this  dance, 
which  henceforth  illustrated  the  deeds  of  Dionysos.  A  fragment 
of  a  marble  frieze  shows  a  satyr  with  a  thyrsos  and  laurel  crown 
performing  a  wild  Bacchic  dance  between  two  soldiers,  also  exe- 
cuting a  dancing  movement ;  it  most  likely  illustrates  the  Pyrrhic 
dance  of  a  later  epoch. 

Of  other  warlike  dances  we  mention  the  karpeia^  which 
rendered  the  surprise  of  a  warrior  plowing  a  field .  by  robbers, 
and  the  scuffle  between  them.     It  was  accompanied  on  the  flute. 

More  numerous,  although  less  complicated,  were  the  peace- 
II 


iGz 


AMUSEMENTS. 


fill  choral  dances  performed  at  the  feasts  of  different  gods,  ac 
cording  to  their  individuahties.  With  the  exception  of  the  Bacchic 
dances,  they  consisted  of  measured  movements  round  the  altar. 
More  lively  in  character  were  the  gymnopaidic  dances  performed 
by  men  and  boys.  They  were,  like  most  Spartan  choral  dances, 
renowned  for  their  graceful  rhythms.  They  consisted  of  an  imi- 
tation of  gymnastic  exercises,  particularly  of  the  wrestling-match 
and  the  Pankration;  in  later  times  it  was  generally  succeeded 
by  the  warlike  Pyrrhic  dance. 


^^^w 
•-^-^^^i^ 


^OCIAL   J^NTERTAINMENTp. 


We  will  now  give  some  of  the  more  domestic  entertainments, 
such  as  parties  or  dinners,  given  by  the  Eg3-ptians.  In  their  en- 
tertainments they  appear  to  have  omitted  nothing  which  could 
promote  festivity  and  the  amusement  of  the  guests.  Music,  songs, 
dancing,  buffoonery,  feats  of  agility,  or  games  of  chance,  were 
generally  introduced;  and  they  welcomed  them  with  all  the  lux- 
uries which  the  cellar  and  the  table  could  afford. 

The  party,  when  invited  to  dinner,  met  about  midday,  and 
they  arrived  successively  in  their  chariots,  in  palanquins  borne  by 
their  servants,  or  on  foot.  Sometimes  their  attendants  screened 
them  from  the  sun  by  holding  up  a  shield  (as  is  still  done  in 
Southern  Africa),  or  by  some  other  contrivance;  but  the  chariot 
of  the  king  or  of  a  princess,  was  often  furnished  with  a  large  par- 
asol; and  the  flabella  borne  behind  the  king,  which  belonged  ex- 
clusively to  royalty,  answered  the  same  purpose.  They  were 
composed  of  feathers,  and  were  not  very  unlike  those  carried  on 
state  occasions  behind  the  Pope  in  modern  Rome.  Parasols  or 
umbrellas  were  also  used  in  Assyria,  Persia,  and  other  Eastern 
countries. 

When  a  visitor  came  in  his  car,  he  was  attended  by  a  num- 
ber of  servants,  some  of  whom  carried  a  stool,  to  enable 
him  to  alight,  and  others  his  writing  tablet,  or  whatever 
he  might  want  during  his  stay  at  the  house.  The  guests  are  as- 
sembled in  a  sitting  room  within,  and  are  entertained  with  music 
during  the  interval  preceding  the  announcement  of  dinner;  for, 
like  the  Greeks,  they  considered  it  a  want  of  good  breeding  to  sit 

163 


[  64  AMUSEMENTS. 

down  to  table  immediately  on  arriving,  and,  as  Bdelycleon,  in 
Aristophanes,  recommended  his  father  Philocleon  to  do,  they 
praised  the  beauty  of  the  rooms  and  the  iurniture,  taking  care  to 
show  particular  interest  in  those  objects  which  were  intended  lor 
admiration.  As  usual  in  all  countries,  some  of  the  party  arrived 
earlier  than  others;  and  the  consequence,  or  affectation  of  fashion, 
in  the  person  who  now  drives  up  in  his  curricle,  is  shown  by  his 
coming  some  time  after  the  rest  of  the  company ;  one  of  his  foot- 
men runs  forward  to  knock  at  the  door,  others,  close  behind  the 
chariot,  are  ready  to  take  the  reins,  and  to  perform  their  accus- 
tomed duties;  and  the  one  holding  his  sandals  in  his  hand,  that 
he  may  run  with  greater  ease,  illustrates  a  custom,  still  common 
in  Egypt,  among  the  Arabs  and  peasants  of  the  country,  who  find 
the  power  of  the  foot  greater  when  freed  from  the  encumbrance 
of  a  shoe. 

To  those  who  arrived  from  a  journey,  or  who  desired  it, 
water  was  brought  for  their  feet,  previous  to  entering  the  festive 
chamber.  They  also  washed  their  hands  before  dinner,  the  water 
being  brought  in  the  same  manner  as  at  the  present  day;  and 
ewers,  not  unlike  those  used  by  the  modern  Egyptians,  are  repre- 
sented, with  the  basins  belonging  to  them,  in  the  paintings  of  a 
Theban  tomb.  In  the  houses  of  the  rich  they  were  of  gold,  or 
other  costly  materials.  Herodotus  mentions  the  golden  foot-pan, 
in  which  Amasis  and  his  guests  used  to  wash  their  feet. 

The  Greeks  had  the  same  custom  of  bringing  water  to  the 
guests,  numerous  instances  of  which  we  find  in  Homer;  as  when 
Telemachus  and  the  son  of  Nestor  were  received  at  the  house  of 
Menelaus,  and  when  Asphalion  poured  it  upon  the  hands  of  his 
master,  and  the  same  guests,  on  another  occasion.  Virgil  also 
describes  the  servants  bringing  water  for  this  purpose  when 
^"Eneas  was  entertained  by  Dido.  Nor  was  the  ceremony  thought 
mperfluous,  or  declined,  even  though  they  had  previously  bathed 
aid  been  anointed  with  oil. 


SOCIAL    ENTERTAINMENTS.  1 65 

It  is  also  probable  that,  like  the  Greeks,  the  Egyptians  an- 
ointed themselves  before  they  left  home;  but  still  it  was  custom- 
ary for  a  servant  to  attend  every  guest,  as  he  seated  himself,  and 
to  anoint  his  head;  which  was  one  of  the  principal  tokens  of  wel- 
come. The  ointment  was  sweet-scented,  and  was  contained  in 
an  alabaster,  or  in  an  elegant  glass  or  porcelain  vase,  some  of 
which  have  been  found  in  the  tombs  of  Thebes.  Servants  took 
the  sandals  of  the  guests  as  they  arrived,  and  either  put  them  by 
in  a  convenient  place  in  the  house,  or  held  them  on  their  arm 
while  they  waited  upon  them. 

After  the  ceremony  of  anointing  was  over,  and  in  some  cases 
at  the  time  of  entering  the  saloon,  a  lotus  flower  was  presented  to 
each  guest,  who  held  it  in  his  hand  during  the  entertainment. 
Servants  then  brought  necklaces  of  flowers,  composed  chiefly  of 
the  lotus;  a  garland  was  also  put  round  the  head,  and  a  single 
lotus  bud,  or  a  full-blown  flower,  was  so  attached  as  to  hang  over 
the  forehead.  Man}'  of  them,  made  up  into  wreaths  and  othei 
devices,  were  suspended  upon  stands  in  the  room  ready  for  imme 
diate  use;  and  servants  were  constantly  employed  to  bring  othei 
fresh  flowers  from  the  garden,  in  order  to  supply  the  guests  as, 
their  bouquets  faded. 

The  Greeks  and  Romans  had  the  same  custom  of  presenting 
guests  with  flowers  or  garlands,  which  were  brought  in  at  the 
beginning  of  their  entertainments,  or  before  the  second  course. 
They  not  only  adorned  their  heads^  necks^  and  breasts^  like  the 
Eg3^ptians,  but  often  bestrewed  the  couches  on  which  they  lay, 
and  all  parts  of  the  room,  with  flowers;  though  the  head  was 
chiefly  regarded,  as  appears  from  Horace,  Anacreon,  Ovid,  and 
other  ancient  authors.  The  wine-bowl,  too,  was  crowned  with 
flowers,  as  at  an  Egyptian  banquet.  They  also  perfumed  the 
apartment  with  myrrh,  frankincense  and  other  choice  odors, 
which  they  obtained  from  Syria ;  and  if  the  sculptures  do  not  give 
any  direct  representation  of  this  practice  among  the  Egyptians, 


r66  AMUSEMENTS. 

we  know  it  to  have  been  adopted  and  deemed  indispensable  among 
them;  and  a  striking  instance  is  recorded  by  Plutarch,  at  the  re- 
ception of  Agesilaus  by  Tachos.  A  sumptuous  dinner  was  pre- 
pared for  the  Spartan  prince,  consisting,  as  usual,  of  beef,  goose, 
and  other  Egyptian  dishes;  he  was  crowned  with  garlands  of 
papyrus,  and  received  with  every  token  of  welcome;  but  when 
he  refused  "  the  sweatmeats,  confections,  and  perfumes,"  the 
Egyptians  held  him  in  great  contempt,  as  a  person  unaccustomed 
to,  and  unworthy  of,  the  manners  of  civilized  society. 

The  Greeks,  and  other  ancient  people,  usually  put  on  a  par- 
ticular garment  at  festive  meetings,  generally  of  a  white  color; 
but  it  does  not  appear  to  have  been  customary  with  the  Egyptians 
to  make  any  great  alteration  in  their  attire,  though  they  evidently 
abstained  from  dresses  of  a  gloomy  hue. 

The  guests  being  seated,  and  having  received  these  tokens 
of  welcome,  wine  was  offered  them  by  the  servants.  To  the  la- 
dies it  was  generally  brought  in  a  small  vase,  which,  when  emptied 
into  the  drinking-cup,  was  handed  to  an  under  servant,  or  slave, 
who  followed;  but  to  the  men  it  was  frequently  presented  in  a 
one-handled  goblet,  without  being  poured  into  any  cup,  and  some- 
times in  a  larger  or  small  vase  of  gold,  silver,  or  other  materials. 

Herodotus  and  Hellanicus  both  say  that  they  drank  wine  out 
of  brass  or  bronze  goblets;  and,  indeed,  the  former  affirms  that 
this  was  the  only  kind  of  drinking-cup  known  to  the  Egyptians; 
but  Joseph  had  one  of  silver,  and  the  sculptures  represent  them 
of  glass  and  porcelain,  as  well  as  of  gold,  silver  and  bronze. 
Those  who  could  not  afford  the  more  costly  kind  were  satisfied 
with  a  cheaper  quality,  and  many  were  contented  with  cups  of 
common  earthenware;  but  the  wealthy  Egyptians  used  vases  of 
glass,  porcelain,  and  the  precious  metals,  for  numerous  purposes, 
both  in  their  houses  and  in  the  temples  of  the  gods. 

The  practice  of  introducing  wine  at  the  commencement  of  an 
entertainment,  or  before  dinner  had  been  served  up,  was  not  pe- 


CHARACTERISTICS    OF    THE    DANCE.  1 67 

culiar  to  this  people ;  and  the  Chinese,  to  the  present  day,  offer  it 
at  their  parties  to  all  the  guests,  as  they  arrive,  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  the  ancient  Egyptians.  They  also  drank  wine  during  the 
repast,  perhaps  to  the  health  of  one  another  or  of  an  absent  friend 
like  the  Romans;  and  no  doubt  the  master  of  the  house,  or  "  the 
ruler  of  the  feast,"  recommended  a  choice  wine,  and  pledo-ed 
them  to  the  cup. 

AVhile  dinner  was  preparing  the  party  v/as  enlivened  by  the 
sound  of  music;  and  a  band,  consisting  of  the  harp,  lyre,  o-uitar^ 
tambourine,  double  and  single  pipe,  flute  and  other  instruments, 
played  the  favorite  airs  and  songs  of  the  country.  Nor  was  it 
deemed  unbecoming  the  gravity  and  dignity  of  a  priest  to  admit 
musicians  into  his  house,  or  to  take  pleasure  in  witnessing  the 
dance;  and  seated  with  their  wives  and  family  in  the  midst  of 
their  friends,  the  highest  functionaries  of  the  sacerdotal  order  en- 
joyed the  lively  scene.  In  the  same  manner,  at  a  Greek  enter- 
tainment, diversions  of  all  kinds  were  introduced;  and  Xenophon 
and  Plato  inform  us  that  Socrates,  the  wisest  of  men,  amused  his 
friends  with  music,  jugglers,  mimics,  buifoons,  and  whatever 
could  be  desired  for  exciting  cheerfulness  and  mirth. 

The  dance  consisted  mostly  of  a  succession  of  figures,  in 
which  the  performers  endeavored  to  exhibit  a  great  variety  of 
gesture ;  men  and  women  danced  at  the  same  time,  or  in  separate 
parties,  but  the  latter  were  generally  preferred,  from  their  su- 
perior grace  and  elegance.  Some  danced  to  slow  airs,  adapted 
to  the  style  of  their  moventent ;  the  attitudes  they  assumed  fre- 
quently partook  of  a  grace  not  unworthy  of  the  Greeks;  and 
others  preferred  a  liveh'  step,  regulated  by  an  appropriate  tune. 
Men  sometimes  danced  with  great  spirit,  bounding  from  the 
ground  more  in  the  manner  of  Europeans  than  of  an  Eastern 
people;  on  which  occasions  the  music  was  not  always  composed 
of  many  instruments,  but  consisted  only  of  crotala  or   maces,  r. 


1 68  AMUSEMENTS. 

man  clapping  his  hand,  and  a  woman  snapping  her  fingers  to 
the  time. 

Graceful  attitudes  and  gesticulation  were  the  general  style  oi 
their  dance;  but,  as  in  other  countries,  the  taste  of  the  perform- 
ance varied  according  to  the  rank  of  the  person  b}'  whom  they 
were  emplo3'ed,  or  their  own  skill ;  and  the  dance  at  the  house  of 
a  priest  differed  from  that  among  the  uncouth  peasantry,  or  the 
lower  classes  of  townsmen. 

It  was  not  customary  for  the  upper  orders  of  Egyptians  to 
indulge  in  this  amusement,  either  in  public  or  private  assemblies, 
and  none  appear  to  have  practiced  it  but  the  lower  ranks  of  so- 
ciety, and  those  who  gained  their  livelihood  by  attending  festive 
meetings.  The  Greeks,  however,  though  they  employed  women 
who  professed  music  and  dancing,  to  entertain  the  guests,  looked 
upon  the  dance  as  a  recreation  in  which  all  classes  might  indulge, 
and  an  accomplishment  becoming  a  gentleman;  and  it  was  also 
a  Jewish  custom  for  young  ladies  to  dance  at  private  entertain- 
ments, as  it  still  is  at  Damascus  and  other  Eastern  tovv^ns. 

The  Romans,  on  the  contrary,  were  far  from  considering  it 
worthy  of  a  man  of  rank,  or  of  a  sensible  person;  and  Cicero 
says:  "No  man  who  is  sober  dances,  unless  he  is  out  of  his 
mind,  either  -when  alone^  or  in  any  decent  society;  for  dancing  is 
the  companion  of  wanton  conviviality,  dissoluteness,  and  luxury." 

Nor  did  the  Greeks  indulge  in  it  to  excess;  and  effeminate 
dances,  or  extraordinary  gesticulation,  were  deemed  indecent  in 
men  of  character  and  wisdom.  Indeed,  Herodotus. tells  a  story 
of  Ilippoclides,  the  Athenian,  who  had  been  preferred  before  all 
the  nobles  of  Greece,  as  a  husband  for  the  daughter  of  Clisthenes, 
king  of  Argos,  having  been  rejected  on  account  of  his  extrava- 
gant gestures  in  the  dance. 

Of  all  the  Greeks,  the  lonians  were  most  noted  for  their 
fondness  of  this  art;  and,  from  the  wanton  and  indecent  tendency 
of  their    songs  and  gestures,   dances  of  a  voluptuous  character 


GRACE    AND    DRESS    OF    THE    DANCERS.  1 69 

(like  those  of  the  modern  Ahnehs  of  the  East)  were  styled  by  the 
Romans  "  Ionic  movements."  Moderate  dancing  was  even  deemed 
worthy  of  the  gods  themselves.  Jupiter,  "the  father  of  gods  and 
men,"  is  represented  dancing  in  the  midst  of  the  other  deities* 
and  Apollo  is  not  only  introduced  by  Homer  thus  engaged,  but 
received  the  title  of  "  the  dancer,"  from  his  supposed  excellence 
in  the  art. 

Grace  in  posture  and  movement  was  the  chief  object  of  those 
employed  at  the  assemblies  of  the  rich  Egyptians;  and  the  ridic- 
ulous gestures  of  the  buffoon  were  permitted  there,  so  long  as 
they  did  not  transgress  the  rules  of  decenc}^  and  moderation. 
Music  was  always  indispensable,  whether  at  the  festive  meetings 
of  the  rich  or  poor;  and  they  danced  to  the  sound  of  the  harp, 
lyre,  guitar,  pipe,  tambourine,  and  other  instruments,  and,  in  the 
streets,  even  to  the  drum. 

Many  of  their  postures  resembled  those  of  the  modern  ballet, 
and  the  -pirouette  delighted  an  Egyptian  party  four  thousand  years 
ago. 

The  dresses  of  the  female  dancers  were  light,  and  of  the 
finest  texture,  showing,  by  their  transparent  quality,  the  forms 
and  movement  of  the  limbs;  they  generally  consisted  of  a  loose 
flowing  robe,  reaching  to  the  ankles,  occasionally  fastened  tight 
at  the  waist;  and  round  the  hips  was  a  small  narrow  girdle, 
adorned  with  beads,  or  ornaments  of  various  colors.  Sometimes 
the  dancing  figures  appear  to  have  been  perfectly  naked  ;  but 
this  is  from  the  outline  of  the  transparent  robe  having  been 
effaced;  and,  like  the  Greeks,  they  represented  the  contour  of  the 
figure  as  if  seen  through  the  dress. 

Slaves  were  taught  dancing  as  well  as  music;  and  in  the 
houses  of  the  rich,  besides  their  other  occupations,  that  of  dancing 
to  entertain  the  family,  or  a  party  of  friends,  was  required  of 
them;  and  free  Egyptians  also  gained  a  livelihood  by  their  per- 
formances. 


1 70  •  AMUSEMENTS. 

While  the  party  was  amused  with  music  and  dancing,  and 
the  late  arrivals  were  successively  announced,  refreshments  con- 
tinued to  be  handed  round,  and  every  attention  was  shown  to  the 
assembled  guests.  Wine  was  offered  to  each  new  comer,  and 
chaplets  of  flowers  were  brought  by  men  servants  to  the  gentle- 
men, and  by  women  or  white  slaves  to  the  ladies,  as  they  took 
their  seats.  An  upper  servant,  or  slave,  had  the  office  of  hand- 
ing the  wine,  and  a  black  woman  sometimes  followed,  in  an  in- 
ferior capacity,  to  receive  an  empty  cup  when  the  wine  had  been 
poured  into  the  goblet.  The  same  black  slave  also  carried  the 
fruits  and  other  refreshments;  and  the  peculiar  mode  of  holding 
a  plate  with  the  hand  reversed,  so  generally  adopted  by  women 
from  Africa,  is  characteristically  shown  in  the  Theban  paintings. 

To  each  person  after  drinking  a  napkin  was  presented  for 
wiping  the  mouth,  answering  to  the  tnahrama  of  the  modern 
Egyptians;  and  the  bearer  of  it  uttered  a  complimentary  senti- 
ment, when  she  offered  it  and  received  back  the  goblet:  as, 
"May  it  benefit  you!"  and  no  oriental  at  the  present  day  drinks 
water  without  receiving  a  similar  wish.  But  it  was  not  considered 
rude  to  refuse  wine  when  offered,  even  though  it  had  been  poured 
out;  and  a  teetotaller  might  continue  smelling  a  lotus  without 
any  affront. 

Men  and  women  either  sat  together,  or  separately,  in  a  dif- 
ferent part  of  the  room;  but  no  rigid  mistrust  prevented  strangers, 
as  well  as  members  of  the  family,  being  received  into  the  same 
society;  which  shows  how  greatly  the  Egyptians  were  advanced 
in  the  habits  of  social  life.  In  this  they,  like  the  Romans,  dif- 
fered widely  from  the  Greeks,  and  might  say  with  Cornelius 
Nepos,  "  Which  of  us  is  ashamed  to  bring  his  wife  to  an  en- 
tertainment ?  and  what  mistress  of  a  family  can  be  shown  who 
does  not  inhabit  the  chief  and  most  frequented  part  of  the  house  .f* 
Whereas  in  Greece  she  never  appears  at  any  entertainments,  ex- 
cept  those  to  which   relations  alone  are   invited,  and  constantly 


POSITION    AT    THE    TABLE. 


71 


lives  in  the  women's  apartments  at  the  upper  part  of  the  house, 
in;;o  which  no  man  has  admission,  unless  he  be  a  near  relation." 
Nor  were  married  people  afraid  of  sitting  together,  and  no  idea 
of  their  having  had  too  much  of  each  other's  compan}'  made  it 
necessary  to  divide  them.  In  short,  they  were  the  most  Darby 
and  Joan  people  possible,  and  they  shared  the  same  chair  at 
home,  at  a  party,  and  even  in  their  tomb,  where  sculpture  grouped 
them  together. 

The  master  and  mistress  of  the  house  accordingly  sat  side  by 
side  on  a  large  fauteuil,  and  each  guest  as  he  arrived  walked  up 
to  receive  their  welcome.  The  musicians  and  dancers  hired  for 
the  occasion  also  did  obeisance  to  them,  before  they  began  their 
part.  To  the  leg  of  the  fauteuil  was  tied  a  favorite  monkey,  a 
dog,  a  gazelle,  or  some  other  pet;  and  a  young  child  was  per- 
mitted to  sit  on  the  ground  at  the  side  of  its  mother,  or  on  its 
father's  knee. 

In  the  meantime  the  conversation  became  animated,  especial- 
ly in  those  parts  of  the  room  where  the  ladies  sat  together,  and 
the  numerous  subjects  that  occurred  to  them  were  fluently  dis- 
cussed. Among  these  the  question  of  dress  was  not  forgotten, 
and  the  patterns,  or  the  value  of  trinkets,  were  examined  with 
proportionate  interest.  The  maker  of  an  ear-ring,  and  the  store 
where  it  was  purchased,  were  anxiously  inquired ;  each  compared 
the  workmanship,  the  style,  and  the  materials  of  those  she  wore, 
coveted  her  neighbor's,  or  preferred  her  own ;  and  women  of  every 
class  vied  with  each  other  in  the  display  of  "jewels  of  silver 
and  jewels  of  gold,"  in  the  texture  of  their  "  raiment,"  the  neat- 
ness of  their  sandals,  and  the  arrangement  or  beauty  of  their 
plaited  hair. 

It  was  considered  a  pretty  compliment  to  offer  each  other  a 
flower  from  their  own  bouquet,  and  all  the  vivacity  of  the  Egyp- 
tians was  called  forth  as  they  sat  together.  The  hosts  omitted 
nothing  that  could  make  their  party  pass  off  pleasantly,  and  keep 


1^2  AMUSEMENTS. 

up  agreeable  conversation,  which  was  with  them  the  great  charm 
of  accompHshed  society,  as  with  the  Greeks,  who  thought  it 
"more  requisite  and  becoming 'to  gratiiy  the  company  by  cheer- 
ful conversation,  than  with  variety  of  .dishes."  The  guests,  too, 
neglected  no  opportunity  of  showing  how  much  they  enjoyed 
themselves;  and  as  they  drew  each  other^s  attention  to  the  many 
nick-nacks  that  adorned  the  rooms,  paid  a  well-turned  compli- 
ment to  the  taste  of  the  owner  of  the  house.  They  admired  the 
vases,  the  carved  boxes  of  wood  or  ivory,  and  the  light  tables  on 
which  many  a  curious  trinket  was  displayed;  and  commended 
the  elegance  and  comfort  of  the  luxurious  fauteuils,  the  rich 
cushions  and  coverings  of  the  couches  and  ottomans,  the  carpets 
and  the  other  furniture.  Some,  who  were  invited  to  see  the 
sleeping  apartments,  found  in  the  ornaments  on  the  toilet-tables, 
and  in  the  general  arrangements,  fresh  subjects  for  admiration; 
and  their  return  to  the  guest-chamber  gave  an  opportunity  of 
declaring  that  good  taste  prevailed  throughout  the  whole  house. 
On  one  occasion,  while  some  ct'  the  delighted  guests  were  in  these 
raptures  of  admiration,  and  others  were  busied  with  the  chitchat, 
perhaps  the  politics,  or  the  scandal  of  the  day,  an  awkward 
youth,  either  from  inadvertence,  or  a  little  too  much  wine,  re- 
clined against  a  wooden  column  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  room 
to  support  some  temporary  ornament,  and  threw  it  down  upon 
those  who  sat  beneath  it."'  The  confusion  was  great:  the  women 
screamed;  and  some,  with  uplifted  hands,  endeavored  to  protect 
their  heads  and  escape  its  fall.  No  one,  however,  seems  to  have 
been  hurt ;  and  the  harmony  of  the  party  being  restored,  the  inci- 
dent afforded  fresh  matter  for  conversation;  to  be  related  in  full 
detail  to  their  friends,  when  they  returned  home. 

The  vases  were  very  numerous,  and  varied  in  shape,  size, 
and  materials;  being  of  hard  stone,  alabaster,  glass,  ivor}^  bone, 
porcelain,  bronze,  brass,  silver,  or  gold;  and  those  of  the  poorer 

*  We  regret  hiiving  lost  tlie  copy  of  this  amusing  suliject.  It  v.as  in  a  tomb  at  Tbebes. 


VASES    AND    ORNAMENTS. 


173 


classes  were  of  glazed  pottery,  or  common  earthenware.  Many 
of  their  ornamental  vases,  as  well  as  those  in  ordinary  use,  were 
of  the  most  elegant  shape,  which  would  do  honor  to  the  Greeks, 
the  Egyptians  frequently  displaying  in  these  objects  of  private 
luxe  the  taste  of  a  highly  refined  people;  and  so  strong  a  resem 
blance  did  they  bear  to  the  productions  of  the  best  epochs  of  an- 
cient Greece,  both  in  their  shape  and  in  the  fancy  devices  upon 
them,  that  some  might  even  suppose  them  borrowed  from  Greek 
patterns.     But  they  were  purely  Egyptian,  and  had  been  univer- 


W^mrn^^KWf^^l 


EGYPTIAN   VASES. 


sally  adopted  in  the  valley  of  the  Nile,  long  before  the  graceful 
forms  we  admire  were  known  in  Greece;  a  fact  invariably  ac- 
knowledged by  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  remote  age  of 
Egyptian  monuments,  and  of  the  paintings  that  represent  them. 

For  some  of  the  most  elegant  date  in  the  earl}^  age  of  the 
third  Thothmes,  who  lived  between  3,300  and  3,400  3'ears 
before  our  time;  and  we  not  only  admire  their  forms,  but  the 
richness  of  the  materials  of  which  they  were  made,  their  color,  as 
well  as  the  hieroglyphics,  showing  them  to  have  been  of  gold  and 
silver,  or  of  this  last,  inlaid  with  the  more  precious  metal. 

Those  of  bronze,  alabaster,  glass,  porcelain,  and  even  of  or- 
dinary potterv,  were  also  deserving  of  admiration,  from  the  beauty 
of  their  shape.s,  the  designs  which  ornamented  them,  and  the 
superior  quality  of  the   material;   and  gold  and  silver  cups  were 


174 


AMUSEMENTS. 


often  beautifuiiy  engraved,  and  studded  with  precious  stones. 
Among  these  we  readily  distinguish  the  green  emerald,  the  pur- 
ple amethyst,  and  other  gems;  and  when  an  animal's  head  adorned 
their  handles,  the  eyes  were  frequently  composed  of  them, 
except  when  enamel,  or  some  colored  composition,  was  employed 
as  a  substitute. 

While  the  oruests  were  entertained  with  music  and  the  dance 
dinner  was  prepared ;  but  as  it  consisted  of  a  considerable  number 
of  dishes,  and  the  meat  was  killed  for  the  occasion,  as  at  the  pres- 
ent day  in  Eastern  and  tropical  climates,  some  time  elapsed  before 
it  was  put  upon  table.  An  ox,  kid,  wild  goat,  gazelle  or  an  oryx, 
and  a  quantity  of  geese,  ducks,  teal,  quails  and  other  birds,  were 
generally  selected;  but  mutton  was  excluded  from  a  Theban 
table.  Plutarch  even  states  that  "  no  Egyptians  would  eat  the 
flesh  of  sheep,  except  the  Lycopolites,"  who  did  so  out  of  compli- 
ment to  the  wolves  they  venerated;  and  Strabo  confines  the  sac- 
crifice  of  them  to  the  Nome  of  Nitriotis.  But  though  sheep  were 
not  killed  for  the  altar  or  the  table,  they  abounded  in  Egypt  and 
even  at  Thebes;  and  large  flocks  were  kept  for  their  wool,  par- 
ticularly in  the  neighborhood  of  Memphis.  Sometimes  a  flock 
consisted  of  more  than  2,000;  and  in  a  tomb  below  the  Pyramids, 
dating  upwards  of  4,000  years  ago,  974  rams  are  brought  to  be 
registered  by  his  scribes,  as  part  of  the  stock  of  the  deceased; 
implying  an  equal  number  of  ewes,  independent  of  lambs. 

A  considerable  quantity  of  meat  was  served  up  at  those  re- 
pasts, to  which  strangers  were  invited,  as  among  people  of  the 
East  at  the  present  day;  whose  azooma^  or  feast,  prides  itself  in 
the  quantity  and  variety  of  dishes,  in  the  unsparing  profusion  of 
viands,  and,  whenever  wine  is  permitted,  in  the  freedom  of  the 
bowl.  An  endless  succession  of  vegetables  was  also  required  on 
all  occasions;  and,  when  dining  in  private,  dishes  composed  chiefly 
of  them  were  in  greater  request  than  joints,  even  at  the  tables  of 
the  rich;  and  consequently  the  Israelites,  who,  by  their  long  resi- 


FOOD    AND    VEGETABLES. 


175 


dence  there,  had  acquired  similar  habits,  regretted  them  equally 
with  the  meat  and  fish  of  Egypt. 

Their  mode  of  dining  was  very  similar  to  that  now  adopted 
in  Cairo  and  throughout  the  East;  each  person  sitting  round  a 
table,  and  dipping  his  bread  into  a  dish  placed  in  the  centre,  re- 
moved on  a  sign  made  by  the  host,  and  succeeded  by  others, 
whose  rotation  depends  on  established  rule,  and  whose  number  is 
predetermined  according  to  the  size  of  the  party,  or  the  quality 
of  the  guests. 

Among  the  lower  orders,  vegetables  constituted  a  very  great 
part  of  their  ordinary  food,  and  they  gladly  availed  themselves  of 
the  variety  and  abundance  of  esculent  roots  growing  spontane- 
ously, in  the  lands  irrigated  by  the  rising  Nile,  as  soon  as  its 
waters  had  subsided ;  some  of  which  were  eaten  in  a  crude  state, 
and  others  roasted  in  the  ashes,  boiled  or  stewed:  their  chief  ali- 
ment, and  that  of  their  children,  consisting  of  milk  and  cheese, 
roots,  leguminous,  cucurbitaceous  and  other  plants,  and  the  ordi- 
nary fruits  of  the  country.  Herodotus  describes  the  food  of  the 
workmen  who  built  the  Pyramids,  to  have  been  the  "  raphanus^ 
onions  and  garlic;^'  the  first  of  which,  now  called  yfo7,  is  like  a 
turnip-radish  in  flavor;  but  he  has  omitted  one  more  vegetable, 
lentils,  which  were  always,  as  at  the  present  day,  the  chief  arti- 
cle of  their  diet ;  and  which  Strabo  very  properly  adds  to  the 
number. 

The  nummulite  rock,  in  the  vicinity  of  those  monuments, 
frequently  presents  a  conglomerate  of  testacea  imbedded  in  it, 
which,  in  some  positions,  resemble  small  seeds ;  and  Strabo  imag- 
ines they  were  the  petrified  residue  of  the  lentils  brought  there 
by  the  workmen,  from  their  having  been  the  ordinary  food  of  the 
laboring  classes,  and  of  all  the  lower  orders  of  Egyptians. 

Much  attention  was  bestowed  on  the  culture  of  this  useful 
pulse,  and  certain  varieties  became  remarkable  for  their  excel- 
It'nce,  the  lentils  of  Pelusium  being  esteemed  both  in  Egypt  and 
in  foreisfn  countries. 


176  AMUSEMENTS. 

That  dinner  was  served  up  at  mid-day,  may  be  inferred  from 
the  invitation  given  by  Joseph  to  his  brethren;  but  it  is  probable 
that,  hke  the  Romans,  they  also  ate  supper  in  the  evening,  as  is 
still  the  custom  in  the  East.  The  table  was  much  the  same  as 
that  of  the  present  day  in  Egypt:  a  small  stool,  supporting  a 
round  tray,  on  which  the  dishes  are  placed;  but  it  differed  from 
this  in  having  its  circular  summit  fixed  on  a  pillar,  or  leg,  which 
was  often  in  the  form  of  a  man,  generally  a  captive,  who  sup- 
ported the  slab  upon  his  head ;  the  whole  being  of  stone,  or  some 
hard  wood.  On  this  the  dishes  were  placed,  together  with  loaves 
of  bread,  some  of  which  were  not  unlike  those  of  the  present  day 
in  Egypt,  flat  and  round  as  our  crumpets.  Others  had  the  form 
of  rolls  or  cakes,  sprinkled  with  seeds. 

It  was  not  generally  covered  with  any  linen,  but,  like  the 
Greek  table,  was  washed  with  a  sponge,  or  napkin,  after  the 
dishes  were  removed,  and  polished  by  the  servants,  when  the 
company  had  retired;  though  an  instance  sometimes  occurs  of  a 
napkin  spread  on  it,  at  least  on  those  which  bore  offerings  in 
honor  of  the  dead. 

One  or  two  guests  generall}^  sat  at  a  table,  though  from  the 
mention  of  persons  seated  in  rows  according  to  rank,  it  has  been 
supposed  the  tables  were  occasionally  of  a  long  shape,  as  may 
have  been  the  case  when  the  brethren  of  Joseph  "sat  before 
him,  the  first  born  according  to  his  birth-right,  and  the  youngest 
according  to  his  youth,"  Joseph  eating  alone  at  another  table 
where  "they  set  on  for  him  by  himself."  But  even  if  round, 
they  might  still  sit  according  to  rank;  one  place  being  always 
the  post  of  honor,  even  at  the  present  day,  at  the  round  table  of 

Egypt. 

In  the  houses  of  the  rich,  bread  was  made  of  wheat;  the 
poorer  classes  being  contented  with  bakes  of  barley,  or  of  doora 
(holcus  sorghum),  which  last  is  still  so  commonly  used  by  them; 
for  Herodotus  is  as  wrong  in  saying  that  they  thought  it  "  the 


MODE    OF    EATING.  lyy 

greatest  disgrace  to  live  on  wheat  and  barley/'  as  that  "  no  one 
drank  out  of  any  but  bronze  (or  brazen)  cups.""  The  drinkino- 
cups  of  the  Egyptians  not  only  varied  in  their  materials,  but 
also  in  their  forms.  Some  were  plain  and  unornamented ;  others, 
though  of  small  dimensions,  were  made  after  the  models  of  larger 
vases ;  many  were  like  our  own  cups  without  handles  ;  and 
others  may  come  under  the  denomination  of  beakers,  and  saucers. 
Of  these  the  former  were  frequently  made  of  alabaster,  with  a 
round  base,  so  that  they  could  not  stand  when  tilled,  and  were 
held  in  the  hand,  or,  when  empty,  were  turned  downwards  upon 
their  rim:  and  the  saucers,  which  were  of  glazed  pottery,  had 
sometimes  lotus  blossoms,  or  iish,  represented  on  their  concave 
surface. 

.The  tables,  as  at  a  Roman  repast,  were  occasionally  brought 
in,  and  removed,  with  the  dishes  on  them;  sometimes  each  joint 
was  served  up  separately,  and  the  fruit,  deposited  in  a  plate  or 
trencher,  succeeded  the  meat  at  the  close  of  the  dinner;  but  in 
less  fashionable  circles,  particularly  of  the  olden  time,  fruit  was 
brought  in  baskets,  which  stood  beside  the  table.  The  dishes 
consisted  of  fish;  meat  boiled,  roasted,  and  dressed  in  various 
ways;  game,  poultry,  and  a  profusion  of  vegetables  and  fruit, 
particularly  figs  and  grapes,  during  the  season;  and  a  soup,  or 
"  pottage  of  lentils,"  as  with  the  modern  Egyptians,  was  not  an 
unusual  dish. 

Of  figs  and  grapes  they  were  particularly  fond,  which  is  shown 
by  their  constant  introduction,  even  among  the  choice  offerings 
presented  to  the  gods ;  and  figs  of  the  sycamore  must  have  been 
highly  esteemed,  since  they  were  selected  as  the  heavenly  fruit, 
given  by  the  goddess  Netpe  to  those  who  were  judged  worthy 
of  admission  to  the  regions  of  eternal  happiness.  Fresh  dates 
during  the  season,  and  in  a  dried  state  at  other  periods  of  the 
year,  were  also  brought  to  table,   as  well  as  a  preserve  of  the 

12 


178 


AMUSEMENTS. 


fruit,  made  into  a  cake  of  the  same  form  as  the  tamarinds  now 
brought  from  the  interior  of  Africa,  and  sold  in  the  Cairo  market. 

The  guests  sat  on  the  ground,  or  on  stools  and  chairs,  and, 
havinof  neither  knives  and  forks,  nor  any  substitute  for  them  an- 
swering  to  the  chop-sticks  of  the  Chinese,  they  ate  with  their 
fingers,  like  the  modern  Asiatics,  and  invariably  with  the  right 
hand;  nor  did  the  Jews  and  Etruscans,  though  they  had  forks 
for  other  purposes,  use  any  at  table. 

Spoons  were  introduced  when  required  for  soup,  or  other 
liquids;  and,  perhaps,  even  a  knife  was  employed  on  some  occa- 
sions, to  facilitate  the  carving  of  a  large  joint,  which  is  some- 
times done  in  the  East  at  the  present  day. 

The  Egyptians.washed  after,  as  well  as  before,  dinner ;  an 
invariable  custom  throughout  the  East,  as  among  the  Greeks, 
Romans,  Hebrews,  and  others ;  and  Herodotus  speaks  of  a  golden 
basin,  belonging  to  Amasis,  which  was  used  by  the  King,  and 
*'  the  guests  who  were  in  the  habit  of  eating  at  his  table." 

An  absorbent  seems  also  to  have  been  adopted  for  scouring 
the  hands ;  and  a  powder  of  ground  lupins,  the  doqaq  of  modern 
Eg3'pt,  is  no  doubt  an  old  invention,  handed  down  to  the  present 
inhabitants. 

Soap  was  not  unknown  to  the  ancients,  and  a  small  quantity 
5ias  been  found  at  Pompeii.  Pliny,  who  mentions  it  as  an  inven- 
tion of  the  Gauls,  says  it  was  made  of  fat  and  ashes ;  and  Are- 
taeus,  the  physician  of  Cappadocia,  tells  us,  that  the  Greeks 
borrowed  their  knowledge  of  its  medicinal  properties  from  the 
Romans.  But  there  is  no  evidence  of  soap  having  been  used  b}^ 
the  Egyptians;  and  if  by  accident  they  discovered  something  of 
the  kind,  while  engaged  with  mixtures  of  natron  or  potash,  and 
other  ingredients,  it  is  probable  that  it  was  only  an  absorbent, 
without  oil  or  grease,  and  on  a  par  with  steatite,  or  the  argil- 
laceous earths,  with  which,  no  doubt,  they  were  long  acquainted. 

The  Eg3^ptians,  a  scrupulously  religious  people,  were  never 


REMINDERS    OF    MORTALITY.  1 79 

remiss  in  expressing  their  gratitude  for  the  blessings  they  en- 
joyed, and  in  returning  thanks  to  the  gods  for  that  pecuHar  pro- 
tection they  were  thought  to  extend  to  them  and  to  their  country, 
above  all  the  nations  of  the  earth. 

They,  therefore,  never  sat  dow^n  to  meals  without  saying 
grace;  and  Josephus  says  that  when  the  seventy-two  elders  were 
invited  by  Ptolemy  Philadelphus  to  sup  at  the  palace,  Nicanor 
requested  Eleazer  to  say  grace  for  his  countrymen,  instead  of 
those  Egyptians  to  whom  that  duty  was  committed  on  other  oc- 
casions. 

It  was  also  a  custom  of  the  Egyptians,  during  or  after  theii 
repasts,  to  introduce  a  wooden  image  of  Osiris,  from  one  foot  and 
a  half  to  three  feet  in  height,  in  the  form  of  a  human  mummy, 
standing  erect,  or  lying  on  a  bier,  and  to  show  it  to  each  of  the 
guests,  warning  him  of  his  mortality,  and  the  transitory  nature 
of  human  pleasures.  He  was  reminded  that  some  day  he  would 
be  like  that  figure;  that  men  ought  "  to  love  one  another,  and 
avoid  those  evils  which  tend  to  make  them  consider  lile  too  long, 
when  in  reality  it  is  too  short;"  and  while  enjoying  the  blessings 
of  this  world,  to  bear  in  mind  that  their  existence  was  precarious, 
and  that  death,  which  all  ought  to  be  pVepared  to  meet,  must 
eventually  close  their  earthly  career. 

Thus,  while  the  guests  were  permitted,  and  even  encouraged, 
to  indulge  in  conviviality,  the  pleasures  of  the  table,  and  the  mirth 
so  congenial  to  their  lively  disposition,  they  were  exhorted  to  put 
a  certain  degree  of  restraint  upon  their  conduct ;  and  though  this 
sentiment  was  perverted  by  other  people,  and  used  as  an  incentive 
to  present  excesses,  it  was  perfectly  consistent  with  the  ideas  of 
the  Egyptians  to  be  reminded  that  this  life  was  only  a  lodging, 
or  "  inn  "  on  their  way,  and  that  their  existence  here  was  the 
preparation  for  a  future  state. 

"  The  ungodly,"  too,  of  Solomon's  time,  thus  expressed 
themselves:   "  Our  life  is  short  and  tedious,  and  in  the  death  of  a 


l8o  AMUSEMENTS. 

man  there  is  no  remedy;  neither  was  there  any  man  known  to 
have  returned  from  the  grave.  For  we  are  born  at  all  adventure, 
and  we  shall  be  hereafter  as  though  we  had  never  been,  .  .  . 
come  on,  therefore,  let  us  enjoy  the  good  things  that  are  present, 
let  us  till  ourselves  with  costly  wine  and  ointments; 
and  let  no  tiovver  of  the  spring  pass  b}'  us ;  let  us  crown  ourselves 
with  rosebuds,  before  they  be  withered ;  let  none  of  us  go  with- 
out his  part  of  our  voluptuousness;  let  us  leave  tokens  of  our 
joyfulness  in  every  place.'' 

But  even  if  the  Egyptians,  like  other  men,  neglected  a  good 
warning,  the  original  object  of  it  was  praiseworthy ;  and  Plutarch 
expressly  states  that  it  was  intended  to  convey  a  moral  lesson. 
The  idea  of  death  had  nothing  revolting  to  them;  and  so  little 
did  the  Egyptians  object  to  have  it  brought  before  them,  that  they 
even  introduced  the  mumm}^  of  a  deceased  relative  at  their 
parties,  and  placed  it  at  table,  as  one  of  the  guests ;  a  fact  which 
is  recorded  b}^  Lucian,  in  his  "  Essay  on  Grief,"  and  of  which  he 
declares  himself  to  have  been  an  eye-witness. 

After  dinner,  music  and  singing  were  resumed;  hired  men 
and  women  displayed  feats  of  agility ;  swinging  each  other  round 
by  the  hand ;  throwing'up  and  catching  the  ball ;  or  flinging  them- 
selves round  backwards  head-over-heels,  in  imitation  of  a  wheel  ; 
which  was  usually  a  performance  of  women.  They  also  stood  on 
each  other's  backs,  and  made  a  somersault  from  that  position;  and 
a  necklace,  or  other  reward,  was  given  to  the  most  successful 
tumbler. 


J^QYPTIAJN  ^jVlupiC   AND  ^NTERTAINjVlENTp. 


Though  impossible  for  us  now  to  form  any  notion  of  the 
character  or  style  of  Egyptian  music,  we  may  be  allowed  to  con- 
jecture that  it  was  studied  on  scientific  principles ;  and,  whatever 
defects  existed  in  the  skill  of  ordinary  performers,  who  gained 
their  livelihood  by  playing  in  public,  or  for  the  entertainment  of 
a  private  party,  music  was  looked  upon  as  an  important  science, 
and  diligently  studied  by  the  priests  themselves.  According  to 
Diodorus  it  was  not  customary  to  make  music  part  of  their  edu- 
cation, being  deemed  useless  and  even  injurious,  as  tending  to 
render  the  minds  of  men  effeminate;  but  this  remark  can  only 
apply  to  the  custom  of  studying  it  as  an  amusement.  Plato,  who 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  usages  of  the  Egyptians,  says"  that 
they  considered  music  of  the  greatest  consequence,  from  its  bene 
ficial  effects  upon  the  mind  of  youth;  and  according  to  Strabo, 
the  children  of  the  Egyptians  were  taught  letters,  the  songs  ap' 
pointed  by  law,  and  a  certain  kind  of  music,  established  by  gov 
ernment. 

That  the  Egyptians  were  particularly  fond  of  music  is  abun- 
dantly proved  by  the  paintings  in  their  tombs  of  the  earliest  times ; 
and  we  even  find  they  introduced  figures  performing  on  the  fav- 
orite instruments  of  the  country,  among  the  devices  with  which 
they  adorned  fancy  boxes  or  trinkets.  The  skill  of  the  Egyptians 
in  the  use  of  musical  instruments  is  also  noticed  by  Athenseus, 
who  says  that  both  the  Greeks  and   barbarians  were  taught  by 

i8i 


l82  AMUSEMENTS. 

refugees  from  Egypt,  and  that  the  Alexandrians  were  the  most 
scientific  and  skiUful  players  on  pipes  and  other  instruments. 

It  is  sufficiently  evident,  from  the  sculptures  of  the  ancient 
Egyptians,  that  their  hired  musicians  were  acquainted  with  the 
triple  symphony :  the  harmony  of  instruments ;  of  voices ;  and  of 
voices  and  instruments.  Their  band  was  variously  composed, 
consisting  either  of  two  harps,  with  the  single  pipe  and  flute;  of 
the  harp  and  double  pipe,  frequently  with  the  addition  of  the 
guitar;  of  a  fourteen-stringed  harp,  a  guitar,  lyre,  double  pipe, 
and  tambourine;  of  two  harps,  sometimes  of  different  sizes,  one 
of  seven,  the  other  of  four,  strings;  of  two  harps  of  eight  chords, 
and  a  seven-stringed  lyre ;  of  the  guitar  and  the  square  or  oblong 
tambourine;  of  the  lyre,  harp,  guitar,  double  pipe,  and  a  sort  of 
harp  with  four  strings,  which  was  held  upon  the  shoulder;  of  the 
harp,  guitar,  double  pipe,  lyre,  and  square  tambourine;  of  the 
harp,  two  guitars,  and  the  double  pipe;  of  the  harp,  two  flutes, 
and  a  guitar;  of  two  harps  and  a  flute;  of  a  seventeen-stringed 
lyre,  the  double  pipe,  and  a  harp  of  fourteen  chords ;  of  the  harp 
and  two  guitars;  or  of  two  seven-stringed  harps  and  an  instru- 
ment held  in  the  hand,  not  unlike  an  eastern  fan,  to  which  were 
probably  attached  small  bells,  or  pieces  of  metal  that  emitted  a 
jingling  sound  when  shaken,  like  the  crescent-crowned  bells  of 
our  modern  bands.  There  were  many  other  combinations  of 
these  various  instruments ;  and  in  the  Bacchic  festival  of  Ptolemy 
Philadelphus,  described  by  Athenseus,  more  than  600  musicians 
were  employed  in  the  chorus,  among  whom  were  300  performers 
on  the  cithara. 

Sometimes  the  harp  was  played  alone,  or  as  an  accompani- 
ment to  the  voice;  and  a  band  of  seven  or  more  choristers  fre- 
quently sang  to  it  a  favorite  air,  beating  time  with  their  hands 
between  each  stanza.  They  also  sang  to  other  instruments,  as 
the  lyre,  guitar  or  double  pipe;  or  to  several  of  them  pla3^ed  to- 
gether, as  the  flute  and  one  or  more  harps;  or  to  these  last  with 


MUSICAL    INSTRUMENTS.  1 83 

a  lyre  or  a  guitar.  It  was  not  unusual  for  one  man  or  one  woman 
to  perform  a  solo;  and  a  chorus  of  many  persons  occasionally 
sang  at  a  private  assembly  without  any  instrument,  two  or  three 
beating  time  at  intervals  with  the  hand.  Sometimes  the  band  of 
choristers  consisted  of  more  than  twenty  persons,  only  two  of 
whom  responded  by  clapping  their  hands;  and  in  one  instance  we 
have  seen  a  female  represented  holding  what  was  perhaps  another 
kind  of  jingling  instrument. 

The  custom  of  beating  time  by  clapping  the  hands  between 
the  stanzas  is  still  usual  in  Egypt. 

On  some  occasions  women  beat  the  tambourine  and  dara- 
hooha  drum,  without  the  addition  of  any  other  instrument ;  danc- 
ing or  singing  to  the  sound;  and  bearing  palm  branches  or  green 
twigs  in  their  hands,  they  proceeded  to  the  tomb  of  a  deceased 
friend,  accompanied  by  this  species  of  music.  The  same  custom 
may  still  be  traced  in  the  Friday  visit  to  the  cemetery,  and  in 
some  other  funeral  ceremonies  among  the  Moslem  peasants  of 
modern  Egypt. 

If  it  was  not  customary  for  the  higher  classes  of  Egyptians 
to  learn  music  for  the  purpose  of  playing  in  society,  and  if  few 
amateur  performers  could  be  found  among  persons  of  rank,  still 
some  general  knowledge  of  the  art  must  have  been  acquired  by 
a  people  so  alive  to  its  charms;  and  the  attention  paid  to  it  by 
the  priests  regulated  the  taste,  and  prevented  the  introduction  of 
a  vitiated  style. 

Those  who  played  at  the  houses  of  the  rich,  as  well  as  the 
ambulant  musicians  of  the  streets,  were  of  the  lower  classes,  and 
made  this  employment  the  means  of  obtaining  their  livelihood; 
and  in  many  instances  both  the  minstrels  and  the  choristers  were 
blind. 

It  was  not  so  necessary  an  accomplishment  for  the  higher 
classes  of  Egyptians  as  of  the  Greeks,  who,  as  Cicero  says,  "  con- 
sidered the  arts  of  singing  and  playing  upon  musical  instruments 


1 84  AMUSEMENTS. 

a  very  principal  part  of  learning;  whence  it  is  related  of  Epa- 
minondas,  who,  in  my  judgment,  was  the  first  of  all  the  Greeks, 
that  he  played  very  well  upon  the  flute.  And,  some  time  before, 
Themistocles,  upon  refusing  the  harp  at  an  entertainment,  passed 
for  an  uninstructed  and  ill-bred  person.  Hence,  Greece  became 
celebrated  for  skillful  musicians;  and  as  all  persons  there  learned 
music,  those  who  attained  to  no  proficiency  in  it  were  thought 
uneducated  and  unaccomplished.'" 

Cornelius  Nepos  also  states  that  Epaminondas  "  played  the 
harp  and  flute,  and  perfectly  understood  the  art  of  dancing,  with 
other  liberal  sciences,"  which,  '^  though  trivial  things  in  the  opinion 
of  the  Romans,  were  reckoned  highly  commendable  in  Greece." 

The  Israelites  also  delighted  in  music  and  the  dance;  and 
persons  of  rank  deemed  them  a  necessary  part  of  their  education. 
Like  the  Egyptians  with  whom  they  had  so  long  resided,  the 
Jews  carefully  distinguished  sacred  from  profane  music.  They 
introduced  it  at  public  and  private  rejoicings,  at  funerals,  and  in 
religious  services;  but  the  character  of  the  airs,  like  the  words 
of  their  songs,  varied  according  to  the  occasion;  and  they  had 
canticles  of  mirth,  of  praise,  of  thanksgiving,  and  of  lamentation. 
Some  were  epithalamia^  or  songs  composed  to  celebrate  mar- 
riages; others  to  commemorate  a  victory,  or  the  accession  of  a 
prince;  to  return  thanks  to  the  Deity,  or  to  celebrate  his  praises; 
to  lament  a  general  calamity,  or  a  private  affliction;  and  others, 
again,  were  peculiar  to  their  festive  meetings.  On  these  occa- 
sions they  introduced  the  harp,  lute,  tabret,  and  various  instru- 
ments, together  with  songs  and  dancing,  and  the  guests  were 
entertained  nearly  in  the  same  manner  as  at  an  Egyptian  feast. 
In  the  temple,  and  in  the  religious  ceremonies,  the  Jews  had  fe- 
male as  well  as  male  performers,  who  were  generally  daughters 
of  the  Levites,  as  the  Pallaces  of  Thebes  were  either  of  the  royal 
family,  or  the  daughters  of  priests;  and  these  musicians  were  at- 
tached exclusively  to  the  service  of  religion. 


JEWISH  music:.  185 

David  was  not  only  remarkable  for  his  taste  and  skill  in 
music,  but  took  a  delight  in  introducing  it  on  every  occasion. 
"  And  seeing  that  the  Levites  were  numerous,  and  no  longer  em- 
ployed as  formerly  in  carrying  the  boards,  veils,  and  vessels  of 
the  tabernacle,  its  abode  being  fixed  at  Jerusalem,  he  appointed 
a  great  part  of  them  to  sing  and  play  on  instruments,  at  the  re- 
ligious festivals." 

Solomon,  again,  at  the  dedication  of  the  temple,  employed 
"  120  priests,  to  sound  with  trumpets;"  and  Josephus  pretends 
that  no  less  than  200,000  musicians  were  present  at  that  cere- 
mony, besides  the  same  number  of  singers,  who  were  Levites. 

When  hired  to  attend  at  a  private  entertainment,  the  musi- 
cians either  stood  in  the  centre,  or  at  one  side,  of  the  festive 
chamber,  and  some  sat  cross-legged  on  the  ground,  like  the  Turks 
and  other  Eastern  people  of  the  present  day.  They  were  usually 
accompanied  on  these  occasions  by  dancers,  either  men  or  women, 
sometimes  both;  whose  art  consisted  in  assuming  all  the  graceful 
or  ludicrous  gestures,  which  could  obtain  the  applause,  or  tend  to 
the  amusement,  of  the  assembled  guests.  For  music  and  dancing 
were  considered  as  essential  at  their  entertainments,  as  amongf 
the  Greeks;  but  it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  these  diversions 
counteracted  the  effect  of  wine,  as  Plutarch  imagines ;  a  sprightly 
air  is  more  likely  to  have  invited  another  glass;  and  sobriety  at  a 
feast  was  not  one  of  the  objects  of  the  lively  Egyptians, 

They  indulged  freely  in  whatever  tended  to  increase  their 
enjoyment,  and  wine  flowed  freely  at  their  entertainments. 

Private  individuals  were  under  no  particular  restrictions  with 
regard  to  its  use,  and  it  was  not  forbidden  to  women.  In  this 
they  differed  widely  from  the  Romans;  for  in  earl}-  times  no  fe- 
male at  Rome  enjoyed  the  privilege,  and  it  was  unlawful  for 
women,  or,  indeed,  for  young  men  below  the  age  of  thirty,  to 
drink  wine,  except  at  sacrifices. 

Even  at  a  later  time  the  Romans  considered  it  disgraceful 


l86  AMUSEMENTS. 

for  a  woman  to  drink  wine;  and  they  sometimes  saluted  a  female 
relation,  whom  they  suspected,  in  order  to  discover  if  she  had 
secretly  indulged  in  its  use.  It  was  afterwards  allowed  them  on 
the  plea  of  health. 

That  Egyptian  women  were  not  forbidden  the  use  of  wine,  is 
evident  from  the  frescoes  which  represent  their  feasts;  and  the 
painters,  in  illustrating  this  fact,  have  sometimes  sacrificed  their 
gallantry  to  a  love  of  caricature.  Some  call  the  servants  to  sup- 
port them  as  they  sit,  others  with  difficulty  prevent  themselves 
from  falling  on  those  behind  them ;  a  basin  is  brought  too  late  by 
a  reluctant  servant,  and  the  faded  flower,  which  is  ready  to  drop 
from  their  heated  hands,  is  intended  to  be  characteristic  of  their 
own  sensations. 

That  the  consumption  of  wine  in  Egypt  was  very  great  is 
evident  from  the  sculptures,  and  from  the  accounts  of  ancient 
authors,  some  of  whom  have  censured  the  Egyptians  for  their 
excesses;  and  so  much  did  the  quantity  used  exceed  that  made 
in  the  country,  that,  in  the  time  of  Herodotus,  twice  every  year  a 
large  importation  was  received  from  Phoenicia  and  Greece. 

Notwithstanding  all  the  injunctions  or  exhortations  of  the 
priests  in  favor  of  temperance,  the  Egyptians  of  both  sexes  ap- 
pear from  the  sculptures  to  have  committed  occasional  excesses, 
and  men  were  sometimes  unable  to  walk  from  a  feast,  and  were 
carried  home  by  servants.  These  scenes,  however,  do  not  appear 
to  refer  to  members  of  the  higher,  but  of  the  lower,  classes,  some 
of  whom  indulged  in  extravagant  buffoonery,  dancing  in  a  ludi- 
crous manner,  or  standing  on  their  heads,  and  frequently  in 
amusements  which  terminated  in  a  tight. 

At  the  tables  of  the  rich,  stimulants  were  sometimes  intro- 
duced, to  excite  the  palate  before  drinking,  and  Athenseus  men- 
tions cabbages  as  one  of  the  vegetables  used  by  the  Egyptians  for 
this  purpose. 

Besides  beer,  the  Egyptians  had  what  Pliny  calls  factitious, 


BEER,    PALM    WINE,    ETC.  1 87 

or  artificial,  wine,  extracted  from  various  fruits,  as  figs,  myxas^ 
pomegranates,  as  well  as  herbs,  some  of  which  were  selected  for 
their  medicinal  properties.  The  Greeks  and  Latins  comprehended 
every  kind  of  beverage  made  by  the  process  of  fermentation 
under  the  same  general  name,  and  beer  was  designated  as  barley- 
wine;  but,  by  the  use  of  the  name  zythos,  they  show  that  the 
Egyptians  distinguished  it  by  its  own  peculiar  appellation.  Palm- 
wine  was  also  made  in  Egypt,  and  used  in  the  process  of  em- 
balming. 

The  palm-wine  now  made  in  Egypt  and  the  Oases  is  simply 
from  an  incision  in  the  heart  of  the  tree,  immediately  below  the 
base  of  the  upper  branches,  and  a  jar  is  attached  to  the  part  to 
catch  the  juice  which  exudes  from  it.  But  a  palm  thus  tapped 
is  rendered  perfectly  useless  as  a  fruit-bearing  tree,  and  generally 
dies  in  consequence;  and  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  so  great 
a  sacrifice  is  seldom  made  except  when  date-trees  are  to  be  felled, 
or  when  they  grow  in  great  abundance. 

The  modern  name  of  this  beverage  in  Egypt  is  lowbgeh; 
in  flavor  it  resembles  a  very  new  light  wine,  and  may  be  drunk 
in  great  quantity  when  taken  from  the  tree;  but,  as  soon  as  the 
fermentation  has  commenced,  its  intoxicating  qualities  have  a 
powerful  and  speedy  effect. 

Among  the  various  fruit-trees  cultivated  by  the  ancient 
Egyptians,  palms,  of  course,  held  the  first  rank,  as  well  from  their 
abundance  as  from  their  great  utility.  The  fruit  constituted  a 
principal  part  of  their  food,  both  in  the  month  of  August,  when 
it  was  gathered  fresh  from  the  trees,  and  at  other  seasons  of  the 
year,  when  it  was  used  in  a  preserved  state. 

They  had  two  different  modes  of  keeping  the  dates;  one 
was  by  the  simple  process  of  drying  them,  the  other  was  by  mak- 
ing them  into  a  conserve,  like  the  agiveh  of  the  present  day; 
and  of  this,  which  was  eaten  either  cooked  or  as  a  simple  sweet- 


l88  AMUSEMENTS. 

meat,  there  have  been  found  some  cakes,  as  well  as  the  dried 
dates,  in  the  sepulchres  of  Thebes. 

Pliny  makes  a  just  remark  respecting  the  localities  where 
the  palm  prospers,, and  the  constant  irrigation  it  requires;  and 
thouo-h  every  one  in  the  East  knows  the  tree  will  not  grow  ex- 
cept where  water  is  abundant,  we  still  read  of  "  palm-trees  of 
the  desert,"  as  if  it  delighted  in  an  arid  district.  Wherever 
it  is  found  it  is  a  sure  indication  of  water;  and  if  it  may  be 
said  to  flourish  in  a  sandy  soil,  this  is  only  in  situations  where 
its  roots  can  obtain  a  certain  quantity  of  moisture.  The  numerous 
purposes  for  which  its  branches  and  other  parts  might  be  applied 
rendered  the  cultivation  of  this  valuable  and  productive  tree  a 
matter  of  primary  importance,  for  no  portion  of  it  is  without  its 
peculiar  use. 

The  trunk  serves  for  beams,  either  entire,  or  split  in  half; 
of  the  gereet^  or  branches,  are  made  wicker  baskets,  bedsteads, 
coops,  and  ceilings  of  rooms,  answering  every  purpose  for  which 
laths  or  any  thin  woodwork  are  required;  the  leaves  are  con- 
verted into  mats,  brooms,  and  baskets;  of  the  fibrous  tegument 
as  the  base  of  the  branches,  strong  ropes  and  mats  are  made, 
and  even  the  thick  ends  of  the  gereet  are  beaten  flat  and  formed 
into  brooms. 

Besides  the  lovjbo-eh  of  the  tree,  brandy,  wine,  and  vinegar 
are  made  from  the  fruit;  and  the  quantity  of  saccharine  matter 
in  the  dates  might  be  used  in  default  of  sugar  or  honey. 

In  Upper  Egypt  another  tree,  called  the  Dorn^  or  Theban 
palm,  was  also  much  cultivated,  and  its  wood,  more  solid  and 
compact  than  the  date-tree,  is  found  to  answer  as  well  for  rafts, 
and  other  purposes  connected  with  water,  as  for  beams  and 
rafters. 


^AME?  AND  ^PORT^  OF  THE  J^QYPTIAN^. 


The  game  of  morra  was  common  in  ancient  as  well  as  mod- 
ern Italy,  and  was  played  by  two  persons,  who  each  simultaneous- 
ly threw  out  the  fingers  of  one  hand,  while  one  party  guessed  the 
sum  of  both.  They  were  said  in  Latin,  "  micare  digitis,"  and 
this  game,  still  so  common  among  the  lower  order  of  Indians, 
existed  in  Egypt,  about  four  thousand  years  ago,  in  the  reigns  of 
the  Osirtasens. 

The  same,  or  even  a  greater,  antiquity  may  be  claimed  for 
the  game  of  draughts,  or,  as  it  has  been  called,  chess.  As  in  the 
two  former,  the  players  sat  on  the  ground,  or  on  chairs,  and  the 
pieces,  or  men,  being  ranged  in  line  at  either  end  of  the  tables, 
moved  on  a  chequered  board,  as  in  our  own  chess. 

The  pieces  were  all  of  the  same  size  and  form,  though  thev 
varied  on  different  boards,  some  being  small,  others  large  with 
round  summits:  some  were  surmounted  by  human  heads;  and 
many  were  of  a  lighter  and  neater  shape,  like  small  nine-pins, 
probably  the  most  fashionable  kind,  since  they  were  used  in  the 
palace  of  king  Remeses.  These  last  seem  to  have  been  about 
one  inch  and  a  half  high,  standing  on  a  circular  base  of  half  an 
inch  in  diameter;  but  some  are  only  one  inch  and  a  quarter  in 
height,  and  little  more  than  half  an  inch  broad  at  the  lower  end. 
Others  have  been  found,  of  ivory,  one  inch  and  six  eighths  high, 
and  one  and  an  eighth  in  diameter,  with  a  small  knob  at  the  top, 
exactly  like  those  represented  at  Beni  Hassan,  and  the  tombs  near 
the  Pyramids. 

189 


190 


AMUSEMENTS. 


They  were  about  equal  in  size  upon  the  same  board,  one  set 
black,  the  other  white  or  red;  or  one  with  round,  the  other  with 
flat  heads,  standing  on  opposite  sides;  and  each  player,  raising  it 
with  the  finger  and  thumb,  advanced  his  piece  towards  those  of 
his  opponent;  but  though  we  are  unable  to  say  if  this  was  done 
in  a  direct  or  a  diagonal  line,  there  is  reason  to  believe  they  could 
not  take  backwards  as  in  the  Polish  game  of  chess,  the  men  being 
mixed  together  on  the  board. 

It  was  an  amusement  common  in  the  houses  of  the  lower 
classes,  as  in  the  mansions  of  the  rich;  and  king  Remeses  is  him- 
self portrayed  on  the  walls  of  his  palace  at  Thebes,  engaged  in 
the  o^ame  of  chess  with  the  ladies  of  his  household. 

The  modern  Egyptians  have  a  game  of  chess,  very  similar, 
in  the  appearance  of  the  men,  to  that  of  their  ancestors,  which 
they  call  dameh.,  and  pla}^  much  in  the  same  manner  as  our  own. 

Analogous  to  the  game  of  odd  and  even  was  one,  in  which 
two  of  the  players  held  a  number  of  shells,  or  dice,  in  their  closed 
hands,  over  a  third  person  who  knelt  between  them,  with  his  face 
towards  the  ground,  and  who  was  obliged  to  guess  the  combined 
number  ere  he  could  be  released  from  this  position. 

Another  game  consisted  in  endeavoring  to  snatch  from  each 
other  a  small  hoop,  by  means  of  hooked  rods,  probably  of  metal ; 
and  the  success  of  a  player  seems  to  have  depended  on  extricat- 
ing his  o\\'n  Irom  an  adversary"'s  rod,  and  then  snatching  up  the 
hoop,  before  he  had  time  to  stop  it. 

There  were  also  two  games,  of  which  the  boards,  with  the 
men,  are  in  the  possession  of  Dr.  Abbott.  One  is  eleven  inches 
long  by  three  and  a  half,  and  has  ten  spaces  or  squares  in  three 
rows;  the  other  twelve  squares  at  the  upper  end  (or  four  squares 
in  three  rows)  and  a  long  line  of  eight  squares  below,  forming 
an  approach  to  the  upper  part,  like  the  arrangement  of  German 
tactics.  The  men  in  the  drawer  of  tlie  board  are  of  two  shapes, 
one  set  ten,  the  other  nine  in  number. 


GAMES    WITH    DICE. 


191 


Other  games  are  represented  in  the  paintings,  but  not  in  a 
manner  to  render  them  intelHgible;  and  many,  which  were  doubt- 
less common  in  Egypt,  are  omitted  both  in  the  tombs,  and  in  the 
writings  of  ancient  authors. 

The  dice  discovered  at  Thebes  and  other  places,  may  not  be 
of  a  Pharaonic  period,  but,  from  the  simplicity  of  their  form,  we 
may  suppose  them  similar  to  those  of  the  earliest  age,  in  which, 
too,  the  conventional  number  of  six  sides  had  probably  always 
been  adopted.  They  were  marked  with  small  circles,  represent- 
ing units,  generally  with  a  dot  in  the  centre ;  and  were  of  bone  or 
ivory,  varying  slightly  in  size. 

Plutarch  shows  that  dice  were  a  very  early  invention  in 
Egypt,  and  acknowledged  to  be  so  by  the  Egyptians  themselves, 
since  they  were  introduced  into  Oi-2  of  their  oldest  mythological 
fables ;  Mercury  being  represented  playing  at  dice  with  the  Moon, 
previous  to  the  birth  of  Osiris,  and  winning  from  her  the  five 
days  of  the  epact,  which  were  added  to  complete  the  365  days  of 
the  year. 

It  is  probable  that  several  games  of  chance  were  known  to 
the  Egyptians,  besides  dice  and  morra^  and,  as  with  the  Romans, 
that  many  a  doubtful  mind  sought  relief  in  the  promise  of  suc- 
cess, by  having  recourse  to  fortuitous  combinations  of  various 
kinds;  and  the  custom  of  drawing,  or  casting  lots,  was  common, 
at  least  as  early  as  the  period  of  the  Hebrew  Exodus. 

The  games  and  amusements  of  children  were  such  as  tended 
to  promote  health  by  the  exercise  of  the  body,  and  to  divert  the 
mind  by  laughable  entertainments.  Throwing  and  catching  the 
ball,  running,  leaping,  and  similar  feats,  were  encouraged,  as  soon 
as  their  age  enabled  them  to  indulge  in  them;  and  a  young  child 
was  amused  with  painted  dolls,  whose  hands  and  legs,  moving  on 
pins,  were  made  to  assume  various  positions  by  means  of  strings. 
Some  of  these  were  of  rude  form,  without  legs,  or  with  an  im- 
perfect representation  of  a  single  arm  on   one  side.     Some  had 


192  AMUSEMENTS. 

numerous  beads,  in  imitation  of  hair,  hanging  from  the  doubtful 
place  of  the  head ;  others  exhibited  a  nearer  approach  to  the  form 
of  a  man;  and  some,  made  with  considerable  attention  to  propor- 
tion, were  small  models  of  the  human  figure.  They  were  colored 
according  to  fancy;  and  the  most  shapeless  had  usually  the 
most  gaudy  appearance,  being  intended  to  catch  the  eye  of  an 
infant.  Sometimes  a  man  was  figured  washing,  or  kneading 
dough,  who  was  made  to  work  by  pulling  a  string;  and  a  typho- 
nian  monster,  or  a  crocodile,  amused  a  child  by  its  grimaces,  or 
the  motion  of  its  opening  mouth.  In  the  toy  of  the  crocodile,  we 
have  sufficient  evidence  that  the  notion  of  this  animal  "  not  mov- 
ing its  lower  jaw,  and  being  the  only  creature  which  brings  the 
upper  one  down  to  the  lower,"  is  erroneous.  Like  other  ani- 
mals, it  moves  the  lower  jaw  only ;  but  when  seizing  its  prey,  it 
throws  up  its  head,  which  gives  an  appearance  of  motion  in  the 
upper  jaw,  and  has  led  to  the  mistake. 

The  game  of  ball  was  of  course  generally  played  out  of 
doors.  It  was  not  confined  to  children,  nor  to  one  sex,  though 
the  mere  amusement  of  throwing  and  catching  it  appears  to  have 
been  considered  more  particularly  adapted  to  women.  They  had 
different  modes  of  playing.  Sometimes  a  person  unsuccessful  in 
catching:  the  ball  was  oblio-ed  to  suffer  another  to  ride  on  her 
back,  who  continued  to  enjoy  this  post  until  she  also  missed  it; 
the  ball  being  thrown  by  an  opposite  player,  mounted  in  the  same 
manner,  and  placed  at  a  certain  distance,  according  to  the  space 
previously  agreed  upon;  and,  from  the  beast-of burden  office  of 
the  person  who  had  failed,  the  same  name  was  probably  applied 
to  her  as  to  those  in  the  Greek  game,  "who  were  called  asses, 
and  were  obliged  to  submit  to  the  commands  of  the  victor. ''' 

Sometimes  they  caught  three  or  more  balls  in  succession,  the 
hands  occasionally  crossed  over  the  breast;  they  also  threw  it  up 
to  a  height  and  caught  it,  like  our  "  sky-ball;"  and  the  game  de- 
scribed by  Homer  to  have  been  played  by  Halius  and  Laodamus, 


GAMES    OF    BALL 


193 


in  the  presence  of  Alcinous,  was  known  to  tliem;  in  which  one 
party  threw  the  ball  as  high  as  he  could,  and  the  other,  leaping 
up,  caught  it  on  its  fall,  belbre  his  feet  again  touched  the  ground. 

When  mounted  on  the  backs  of  the  losing  party,  the  Egyp- 
tian women  sat  sidewise.  Their  dress  consisted  merely  of  a  short 
petticoat,  without  a  body,  the  loose  upper  robe  being  laid  aside 
on  these  occasions;  it  was  bound  at  the  waist  with  a  girdle,  sup- 
ported by  a  strap  over  the  shoulder,  and  was  nearly  the  same  as 
the  undress  garb  of  mourners,  worn  during  the  funeral  lamenta- 
tion on  the  death  of  a  friend. 

The  balls  were  made  of  leather  or  skin,  sewed  with  string, 
crosswise,  in  the  same  manner  as  our  own,  and  stuffed  with  bran, 
or  husks  of  corn;  and  those  which  have  been  found  at  Thebes 
are  about  three  inches  in  diameter.  Others  were  made  of  string, 
or  of  the  stalks  of  rushes,  platted  together  so  as  to  form  a  circular 
mass,  and  covered,  like  the  former,  with  leather.  They  appear 
also  to  have  had  a  smaller  kind  of  ball  probably  of  the  same 
materials,  and  covered,  like  many  of  our  own,  with  slips  of 
leather  of  a  rhomboidal  shape,  sewed  together  longitudinally, 
and  meeting  in  a  common  point  at  both  ends,  each  alternate  slip 
being  of  a  different  color;  but  these  have  only  been  met  with  in 
pottery. 

In  one  of  their  performances  of  strength  and  dexterity,  two 
men  stood  together  side  by  side,  and,  placing  one  arm  forward 
and  the  other  behind  them,  held  the  hands  of  two  women,  who 
reclined  backwards,  in  opposite  directions,  with  their  whole  weight 
pressed  against  each  other's  feet,  and  in  this  position  were  whirled 
round;  the  hands  of  the  men  who  held  them  being  occasionally 
crossed,  in  order  more  effectually  to  guarantee  the  steadiness  of 
the  centre,  on  which  they  turned. 

Sometimes  two  men,  seated  back  to  back  on  the  ground,  at 
a  given  signal  tried  who  should  rise  first  from  that  position,  with- 
out touching  the  ground  with  the  hand.     And  in  this,  too,  there 

13 


194 


AMUSEMENTS. 


was  probably  the  trial  who  should  first  make  good  his  seat  upon 
the  ground,  from  a  standing  position. 

Another  game  consisted  in  throwing  a  knife,  or  pointed  wea- 
pon, into  a  block  of  wood,  in  which  each  pla}' er  was  required  to 
strike  his  adversary's,  or  more  probably  to  fix  his  own  in  the 
centre,  or  at  the  circumference,  of  a  ring  painted  on  the  wood  ; 
and  his  success  depended  on  being  able  to  ring  his  weapon  most 
frequentl}',  or  approach  most  closely  to  the  line. 

Conjuring  appears  also  to  have  been  known  to  them,  at  least 
thimble-rig,  or  the  game  of  cups,  under  which  a  ball  was  put, 
while  the  opposite  party  guessed  under  which  of  four  it  was  con- 
cealed. 

The  Egyptian  grandees  frequently  admitted  dwarfs,  and  de- 
formed persons,  into  their  household ;  originally,  perhaps,  from  a 
humane  motive,  or  from  some  superstitious  regard  for  men  who 
bore  the  external  character  of  one  of  their  principal  gods,  Pthah- 
Sokari-Osiris,  the  misshapen  Deity  of  Memphis;  but,  whatever 
may  have  given  rise  to  the  custom,  it  is  a  singular  fact,  that  al- 
ready as  early  as  the  age  of  Osirtasen,  or  about  4,000  years  ago^ 
the  same  fancy  of  attaching  these  persons  to  their  suite  existed 
among  the  Egyptians,  as  at  Rome,  and  even  in  modern  Europe, 
till  a  late  period. 

The  games  of  the  lower  orders,  and  of  those  who  sought  to 
invigorate  the  body  by  active  exercises,  consisted  of  feats  of 
agility  and  strength.  Wrestling  was  a  favorite  amusement ;  and 
the  paintings  at  Beni  Hassan  present  all  the  varied  attitudes  and 
modes  of  attack  and  defence  of  which  it  is  susceptible.  And,  in 
order  to  enable  the  spectator  more  readily  to  perceive  the  posi- 
tion of  the  limbs  of  each  combatant,  the  artist  has  availed  him- 
self of  a  dark  and  light  color,  and  even  ventured  to  introduce 
alternately  a  black  and  red  figure.  The  subject  covers  a  whole 
wall. 

It  is  probable  that,  like  the  Greeks,  they  anointed  the  body 


WRESTLING. 


195 


with  oil,  when  preparing  for  these  exercises,  and  they  were  en- 
tirely naked,  with  the  exception  of  a  girdle,  apparently  of  leathern 
thongs. 

The  two  combatants  generally  approached  each  other,  hold- 
ing their  arms  in  an  inclined  position  before  the  body;  and  each 
endeavored  to  seize  his  adversary  in  the  manner  best  suited  to 
his  mode  of  attack.  It  was  allowable  to  take  hold  of  any  part 
of  the  body,  the  head,  neck,  or  legs;  and  the  struggle  was  fre- 
quently continued  on  the  ground,  after  one  or  both  had  fallen;  a 
mode  of  wrestling  common  also  to  the  Greeks. 

They  also  fought  with  the  single  stick,  the  hand  being  ap- 
parently protected  by  a  basket,  or  guard  projecting  over  the 
knuckles;  and  on  the  left  arm  they  wore  a  straight  piece  of 
wood,  bound  on  with  straps,  serving  as  a  shield  to  ward  off  their 
adversary's  blow.  They  do  not,  however,  appear  to  have  used 
the  cestiis^  nor  to  have  known  the  art  of  boxing;  though  in  one 
group,  at  Beni  Hassan,  the  combatants  appear  to  strike  each 
other.  Nor  is  there  an  instance,  in  any  of  these  contests,  of  the 
Greek  sign  of  acknowledging  defeat,  which  was  by  holding  up  a 
finger  in  token  of  submission;  and  it  was  probably  done  by  the 
Egyptians  with  a  word.  It  is  also  doubtful  if  throwing  the  dis- 
cus, or  quoit,  was  an  Egyptian  game;  but  there  appears  to  be 
one  instance  of  it,  in  a  king's  tomb  of  the  19th  dynasty. 

One  of  their  feats  of  strength,  or  dexterity,  was  lifting 
weights;  and  bags  full  of  sand  were  raised  with  one  hand  from 
the  ground  and  carried  with  a  straight  arm  over  the  head,  and 
held  in  that  position. 

Mock  fights  were  also  an  amusement,  particularly  among 
those  of  the  military  class,  who  were  trained  to  the  fatigues  of 
war,  by  these  manly  recreations.  One  party  attacked  a  tem- 
porary fort,  and  brought  up  the  battering  ram,  under  cover  of 
the  testudo;  another  defended  the  walls  and  endeavored  to  repel 
the  enemy;  others,  in  two  parties  of  equal  numbers,  engaged  in 


196  AMUSEMENTS. 

single  stick,  or  the  more  usual  neboot^  a  pole  wielded  with  both 
hands;  and  the  pugnacious  spirit  of  the  people  is  frequently 
alluded  to  in  the  scenes  portrayed  b}^  their  artists. 

The  use  of  the  neboot  seems  to  have  been  as  common  among 
the  ancjent,  as  among  the  modern,  Egyptians ;  and  the  quarrels 
of  villages  were  often  decided  or  increased,  as  at  present,  by  this 
efficient  weapon. 

Crews  of  boats  are  also  represented  attacking  each  other 
with  the  earnestness  of  real  strife.  Some  are  desperately  wounded, 
and,  being  felled  by  their  more  skillful  opponents,  are  thrown 
headlong  into  the  water;  and  the  truth  of  Herodotus'  assertion, 
that  the  heads  of  the  Egyptians  were  harder  than  those  of  other 
people,  seems  fully  justified  by  the  scenes  described  by  their  own 
draughtsmen. 

It  is  fortunate  that  their  successors  have  inherited  this 
peculiaritv,  in  order  to  bear  the  violence  of  the  Turks,  and  their 
own  combats. 

Many  singular  encounters  with  sticks  are  mentioned  by  an- 
cient authors;  among  which  maybe  noticed  one  at  Papremis,  the 
city  of  Mars,  described  by  Herodotus.  When  the  votaries  of  the 
deity  presented  themselves  at  the  gates  of  the  temple,  their  en- 
trance was  obstructed  by  an  opposing  part}- ;  and  all  being  ai-med 
with  sticks,  they  commenced  a  rude  combat,  which  ended,  not 
merely  in  the  infliction  of  a  few  severe  wounds,  but  even,  as  the 
historian  affirms,  in  the  death  of  many  persons  on  either  side. 

Bull-fights  were  also  among  their  sports;  which  were  some- 
times exhibited  in  the  droiiios^  or  avenue,  leading  to  the  temples, 
as  at  Memphis  before  the  temple  of  Vulcan;  and  prizes  were 
awarded  to  the  owner  of  the  victorious  combatant.  Great  care 
was  taken  in  training  them  for  this  purpose;  Strabo  says  as  much 
as  is  usually  bestowed  on  horses ;  and  herdsmen  were  not  loth  to 
allow,  or  encourage,  an  occasional  fight  for  the  love  of  the  exciting 
and  popular  amusement. 


INTELLECTUAL    CAPABILITIES. 


197 


They  did  not,  however,  condemn  culprits,  or  captives  taken 
in  war,  to  tight  with  wild  beasts,  for  the  amusement  of  an  unfeel- 
ing assembly;  nor  did  they  compel  gladiators  to  kill  each  other, 
and  gratify  a  depraved  taste  by  exhibitions  revolting  to  humanity. 
Their  great  delight  was  in  amusements  of  a  lively  character,  as 
music,  dancing,  buffoonery,  and  feats  of  agility;  and  those  who 
excelled  in  gymnastic  exercises  were  rewarded  with  prizes  of 
various  kinds ;  which  in  the  country  towns  consisted,  among  other 
things,  of  cattle,  dresses,  and  skins,  as  in  the  games  celebrated  in 
Chemmis. 

The  lively  amusements  of  the  Egyptians  show  that  they  had 
not  the  gloomy  character  so  often  attributed  to  them;  and  it  is 
satisfactory  to  have  these  evidences  by  which  to  judge  of  it,  in 
default  of  their  physiognomy,  so  unbecomingly  altered  by  death, 
bitumen,  and  bandages. 

The  intellectual  capabilities,  however,  of  individuals  may 
yet  be  subject  to  the  decision  of  the  phrenologist ;  and  if  they  have 
escaped  the  ordeal  of  the  supposed  spontaneous  rotation  of  a  pen- 
dulum under  a  glass  bell,  their  handwriting  is  still  open  to  the 
criticisms  of  the  wise,  who  discover  by  it  the  most  minute  secrets 
of  character;  and  some  of  the  old  scribes  may  even  now  be 
amenable  to  this  kind  of  scrutiny.  But  they  are  fortunately  out 
of  reach  of  the  surprise,  that  some  in  modern  days  exhibit,  at  the 
exact  likeness  of  themselves,  believed  to  be  presented  to  them 
from  their  own  handwriting  by  a  few  clever  generalities ;  forget- 
ting that  the  sick  man,  in  each  malady  he  reads  of  in  a  book  of 
medicine,  discovers  his  own  symptoms,  and  fancies  they  corre- 
spond with  his  own  particular  case.  For  though  a  certain  neat- 
ness, or  precision,  carelessness,  or  other  habit,  may  be  discovered 
by  handwriting,  to  describe  from  it  all  the  minutige  of  character 
is  only  feeding  the  love  of  the  marvelous,  so  much  on  the  in- 
crease in  these  days,  when  a  reaction  of  credulity  bids  fair  to 
make  nothing  too  extravagant  for  our  iwodi^xn gohe-7nouc1ies. 


198  AMUSEMENTS. 

Among  the  various  pastimes  of  the  Egyptians,  none  was  more 
popular  than  the  chase;  and  the  wealthy  aristocracy  omitted 
nothing  that  could  promote  their  favorite  amusement.  They 
hunted  the  numerous  wild  animals  in  the  desert;  they  had  them 
caught  with  nets,  to  be  turned  out  on  some  future  day ;  and  some 
very  keen  sportsmen  took  long  journeys  to  spots  noted  for 
abundance  of  game. 

When  a  grand  chase  or  hunt  took  place  in  the  domain  of 
some  grandee,  or  in  the  extensive  tracts  of  the  desert,  a  retinue 
of  huntsmen,  beaters  and  others  in  his  service,  attended  to  manage 
the  hounds,  to  carry  the  game  baskets  and  hunting  poles,  to  set 
the  nets,  and  to  make  other  preparations  for  a  good  day's  sport. 
Some  took  a  fresh  supply  of  arrows,  a  spare  bow,  and  various 
requisites  for  remedying  accidents  ;  some  were  mere!}'  beaters, 
others  were  to  assist  in  securing  the  large  animals  caught  by  the 
lasso^  others  had  to  mark  or  turn  the  game,  and  some  carried  a 
stock  of  provisions  for  the  chasseur  and  his  friends.  These  last 
were  borne  upon  the  usual  wooden  yoke,  across  the  shoulders, 
and  consisted  of  a  skin  of  water,  and  jars  of  good  wine  placed  in 
wicker  baskets,  with  bread,  meats,  and  other  eatables. 

Sometimes  a  portion  of  the  desert  of  considerable  extent,  was 
enclosed  by  nets,  into  which  the  animals  were  driven  by  beaters; 
and  the  place  chosen  for  fixing  them  was,  if  possible,  across  nar- 
row valleys,  or  torrent  beds,  lying  between  some  rocky  hills. 
Here  a  sportsman  on  horseback,  or  in  a  chariot,  could  waylay 
them,  or  get  within  reach  with  a  bow;  for  many  animals,  partic- 
ularly gazelles,  when  closely  pressed  by  dogs,  fear  to  take  a  steep 
ascent,  and  are  easily  overtaken,  or  shot  as  they  double  back. 

The  spots  thus  enclosed  were  usually  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
water  brooks,  to  which  they  were  in  the  habit  of  repairing  in  the 
morning  and  evening;  and  having  awaited  the  time  when  they 
went  to  drink,  and  ascertained  it  by  their  recent  tracks  on  the 
accustomed  path,  the  hunters  disposed  the  nets,  occupied  proper 


HUNTING. 


199 


positions  for  observing  them  unseen,  and  gradually  closed  in  upon 
them. 

Such  are  the  scenes  partially  portrayed  in  the  Egyptian 
paintings,  where  long  nets  are  represented  surrounding  the  space 
they  hunted  in;  and  the  hyaenas,  jackals,  and  various  wild  beasts 
unconnected  with  the  sport,  are  intended  to  show  that  they  have 
been  accidentally  enclosed  within  the  same  line  of  nets  with  the 
antelopes  and  other  animals. 

In  the  same  way  ^neas  and  Dido  repaired  to  a  wood  at 
break  of  day,  after  the  attendants  had  surrounded  it  with  a  tem- 
porary fence,  to  enclose  the  game. 

The  long  net  was  furnished  with  several  ropes,  and  was  sup- 
ported on  forked  poles,  varying  in  length,  to  correspond  with  the 
inequalities  of  the  ground,  and  was  so  contrived  as  to  enclose  any 
space,  by  crossing  hills,  valleys  or  streams,  and  encircling  woods, 
or  whatever  might  present  itself;  smaller  nets  for  stopping  gaps 
were  also  used  ;  and  a  circular  snare,  set  round  with  wooden  or 
fnetal  nails,  and  attached  by  a  rope  to  a  log  of  wood,  which  was 
ased  for  catching  deer,  resembled  one  still  made  by  the  Arabs. 

The  drecses  of  the  attendants  and  huntsmen  were  generally 
of  a  suppres>sed  color,  "  lest  they  should  be  seen  at  a  distance  by 
the  animals,"  tight  fitting,  and  reaching  only  a  short  way  down 
the  thigh ;  and  the  horses  cf  the  chariots  were  divested  of  the  fea- 
thers and  showy  ornaments  used  on  other  occasions. 

Besides  the  portions  of  the  open  desert  and  the  valleys,  which 
were  enclosed  for  hunting,  the  parks  and  covers  on  their  own  do- 
mains in  the  valley  of  the  Nile,  though  of  comparatively  limited 
dimensions,  offered  ample  space  and  opportunity  for  indulging  in 
the  chase;  and  a  quantity  of  game  was  kept  there,  principal!}'  the 
wild  goat,  or3'x,  and  gazelle. 

They  had  also  fish-ponds,  and  spacious  poultry-yards,  set 
apart  for  keeping  geese  and  other  wild  fowl,  which  they  fattened 
for  the  table. 


200  AMUSEMENTS. 

It  was  the  duty  of  the  huntsmen,  or  the  gamekeepers,  to  sup- 
erintend the  preserves ;  and  at  proper  periods  of  the  year  wild 
fawns  were  obtained,  to  increase  the  herds  of  gazelles  and  other 
?.nimals,  which  always  formed  part  of  the  stock  of  a  wealthy 
Egyptian. 

The  Egyptians  frequently  coursed  with  dogs  in  the  open 
plains,  the  chasseur  following  in  his  chariot,  and  the  huntsmen  on 
foot.  Sometimes  he  only  drove  to  cover  in  his  car,  and  having 
alighted,  shared  in  the  toil  of  searching  for  the  game,  his  attend- 
ants keeping  the  dogs  in  slips,  ready  to  start  them  as  soon  as  it 
appeared.  The  more  usual  custom  when  the  dogs  threw  oft'  in  a 
level  plain  of  great  extent,  was  for  him  to  remain  in  his  chariot, 
and,  urging  his  horses  to  their  full  speed,  endeavor  to  turn  or  in- 
tercept them  as  they  doubled,  discharging  a  well-directed  arrow 
whenever  they  came  within  its  range. 

The  dogs  were  taken  to  the  ground  by  persons  expressly 
employed  for  that  purpose,  and  for  all  the  duties  connected  with 
the  kennel;  and  were  either  started  one  by  one  or  in  pairs,  in  the 
narrow  valleys  or  open  plains;  and  when  coursing  on  foot,  the 
chasseur  and  his  attendant  huntsmen,  acquainted  with  the  direc- 
tion and  sinuosities  of  the  torrent  beds,  shortened  the  road  as  they 
followed  across  the  intervening  hills,  and  sought  a  favorable  op- 
portunity for  using  the  bow;  or  enjoyed  the  course  in  the  level 
space  before  them. 

Having  pursued  on  foot,  and  arrived  at  the  spot  where  the 
dogs  had  caught  their  prey,  the  huntsman,  if  alone,  took  up  the 
game,  tied  its  legs  together,  and  hanging  it  over  his  shoulders, 
once  more  led  by  his  hand  the  coupled  dogs,  precisely  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  Arabs  do  at  the  present  day.  But  this  was 
generally  the  office  of  persons  who  carried  the  cages  and  baskets 
on  the  usual  wooden  yoke,  and  who  took  charge  of  the  game  as 
soon  as  it  was  caught;  the  supply  of  these  substitutes  for  our 
game  cart  being  in  proportion  to  the  proposed  range  of  the  chase, 
and  the  number  of  head  they  expected  to  kill. 


HUNTING.  20 1 

Sometimes  an  ibex,  oryx,  or  wild  ox,  being  closely  pressed 
by  the  hounds,  faced  round  and  kept  them  at  bay,  with  its  for- 
midable horns,  and  the  spear  of  the  huntsman  as  he  came  up, 
was  required  to  decide  the  success  of  the  chase. 

It  frequently  happened,  when  the  chasseur  had  many  attend- 
ants and  the  district  to  be  hunted  was  extensive,  that  they  divided 
into  parties,  each  taking  one  or  more  dogs,  and  starting  them  on 
whatever  animal  broke  cover;  sometimes  they  went  without 
hounds,  merely  having  a  small  dog  for  searching  the  bushes,  or 
laid  in  wait  for  the  larger  and  more  formidable  animals,  and  at- 
tacked them  with  the  lance. 

The  noose,  or  /asso,  was  also  employed  to  catch  the  wild  ox, 
the  antelope  and  other  animals ;  but  this  could  only  be  thrown  by 
lying  in  ambush  for  the  purpose,  and  was  principally  adopted 
when  they  wished  to  secure  them  alive. 

Besides  the  bow,  the  hounds  and  the  noose,  they  hunted  with 
lions,  which  were  trained  expressly  for  the  chase,  like  the  cheeta^ 
or  hunting  leopard  of  India,  being  brought  up  from  cubs  in  a 
tame  state;  and  many  Egyptian  monarchs  were  accompanied  in 
battle  by  a  favorite  lion.     But  there  is  no  instance  of  hawking. 

The  bow  used  for  the  chase  was  very  similar  to  that  em- 
ployed in  war;  the  arrows  were  generally  the  same,  with  metal 
heads,  though  some  were  only  tipped  with  stone.  The  mode  of 
drawing  the  bow  was  also  the  same;  and  if  the  chasseurs  some- 
times pulled  the  string  only  to  the  breast,  the  more  usual  method 
was  to  raise  it,  and  bring  the  arrow  to  the  ear;  and  occasionally, 
one  or  more  spare  arrows  were  held  in  the  hand,  to  give  greater 
facility  in  discharging  them  with  rapidity  on  the  antelopes  and 
oxen. 

The  animals  they  chiefly  hunted  were  the  gazelle,  wild  goat 
or  ibex^  the  oryx,  wild  ox,  stag,  kehsh  or  wild  sheep,  hare  and 
porcupine;  of  all  of  which  the  meat  was  highly  esteemed  among 
the  delicacies  of  the  table;    the  fox,  jackal,  wolf,    hysena,    and 


202 


AMUSEMENTS. 


leopard,  and  others,  being  chased  as  an  amusement,  for  the  sake 
of  their  skins,  or  as  enemies  of  the  farm-yard.  For  though  the 
fact  of  the  h\'?cna  being  sometimes  bought  witli  the  ibex  and  ga- 
^elle  might  seem  to  justify  the  behef  that  it  was  also  eaten,  there 
is  no  instance  of  its  being  slaughtered  for  the  table.  The  ostrich 
held  out  a  great  temptation  to  the  hunter  from  the  value  of  its 
plumes.  These  were  in  great  request  among  the  Egyptians  for 
ornamental  purposes;  they  were  also  the  sacred  symbol  of  truth; 
and  the  members  of  the  court  on  grand  occasions  decked  them- 
sehes  with  the  feathers  of  the  ostrich.  The  labor  endured  during 
the  chase  of  this  swift-footed  bird  was  amply  repaid ;  even  its  eggs 
were  required  for  some  ornamental  or  for  some  religious  use  (as 
with  the  modern  Copts);  and,  with  the  plumes,  formed  part  of 
the  tribute  imposed  by  the  Egyptians  on  the  conquered  countries 
where  it  abounded.  Lion  hunting  was  a  favorite  amusement  of 
the  kings,  and  the  deserts  of  Ethiopia  always  afforded  good 
sport,  abounding  as  they  did  with  lions;  their  success  on  those 
occasions  was  a  triumph  they  often  recorded;  and  Amunoph  III. 
boasted  having  brought  down  in  one  battue  no  less  than  one  hun- 
dred and  two  head,  either  with  the  bow  or  spear.  For  the  chase 
of  elephants  they  went  still  further  south;  and,  in  after  times,  the 
Ptolemies  had  hunting  places  in  Abyssinia. 


'^g^t-' 


p4?fif;^TiP   Hm 


The  life  of  married  women,  maidens,  children  while  in  the 
care  of  women,  and  of  female  slaves,  passed  in  the  gynaikonitis, 
from  which  they  issued  only  on  rare  occasions.  The  family  life 
of  Greek  women  widely  differed  from  our  Christian  idea ;  neither 
did  it  resemble  the  life  in  an  Oriental  harem,  to  which  it  was  far 
superior.  The  idea  of  the  family  was  held  up  by  both  law  and 
custom,  and  although  concubinage  and  the  intercourse  with 
hetairai  was  suffered,  nay  favored,  by  the  state,  still  such  impure 
elements  never  intruded  on  domestic  relations. 

Our  following  remarks  refer,  of  course,  only  to  the  better 
classes,  the  struggle  for  existence  by  the  poor  being  nearly  the 
same  in  all  ages.  In  the  seclusion  of  the  gynaikonitis  the  maiden 
grew  up  in  comparative  ignorance.  The  care  bestowed  on  do- 
mestic duties  and  on  her  dress  was  the  only  interest  of  her  monot- 
onous existence.  Intellectual  intercourse  with  the  other  sex  was 
wanting  entirely.  Even  where  maidens  appeared  in  public  at 
religious  ceremonies,  they  acted  separately  from  the  youths.  An 
intercourse  of  this  kind,  at  any  rate,  could  not  have  a  lasting  in- 
fluence on  their  culture.  Even  marriage  did  not  change  this 
state  of  things.  The  maiden  only  passed  from  the  gynaikonitis 
of  her  father  into  that  of  her  husband.  In  the  latter,  however, 
she  was  the  absolute  ruler.  She  did  not  share  the  intellectual  life 
of  her  husband — one  of  the  fundamental  conditions  of  our  family 
life.  It  is-  true  that  the  husband  watched  over  her  honor  with 
jealousy,  assisted  by  the  gynaikonomoi,  sometimes  even  by  means 

20^ 


204  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

of  lock  and  key.  It  is  also  true  that  common  custom  protected 
a  well-behaved  woman  against  offence;  still  her  position  was  only 
that  of  the  mother  of  the  family.  Indeed,  her  duties  and  achieve- 
ments were  hardly  considered  by  the  husband,  in  a  much  higher 
light  than  those  of  a  faithful  domestic  slave. 

In  prehistoric  times  the  position  of  women  seems  to  have 
been,  upon  the  whole,  a  more  dignified  one.  Still,  even  then, 
their  duties  v/ere  essentially  limited  to  the  house,  as  is  proved, 
for  instance,  bv  the  words  in  which  Telemachos  bids  his  mother 
mind  her  spindle  and  loom,  instead  of  interfering  with  the  debates 
of  men.  As  the  state  became  more  developed,  it  took  up  the 
w^hole  attention  of  the  man,  and  still  more  separated  him  from  his 
wife.  (^  Happy  marriages,  of  course,  were  by  no  means  impos- 
sible; still,  as  a  rule,  the  opinion  prevailed  of  the  woman  being  by 
nature  inferior  to  the  man,  and  holding  a  position  of  a  minor 
with  regard  to  ci\'ic  rights.  This  principle  has,  indeed,  been  re- 
peatedly pronounced  by  ancient  philosophers  and  lawgivers.  Our 
remarks  hitherto  referred  chiefly  to  the  Ionic-Attic  tribe,  re- 
nowned for  the  modesty  of  its  women  and  maidens.  The  Doric 
principle,  expressed  in  the  constitution  of  Sparta,  gave,  on  the 
contrary,  full  liberty  to  maidens  to  show  themselves  in  public, 
and  to  steel  their  strength  by  bodily  exercise.  This  liberty, 
however,  w^as  not  the  result  of  a  philosophic  idea  of  the  equality 
of  the  two  sexes,  but  w^as  founded  on  the  desire  of  producing 
strong  children  by  means  of  strengthening  the  body  of  the  fe- 
male. 

The  chief  occupation  of  women,  beyond  the  preparing  of  the 
meals,  consisted  in  spinning  and  weaving.  In  Homer  we  see  the 
wives  of  the  nobles  occupied  in  this  way;  and  the  custom  of  the 
women  making  the  necessary  articles  of  dress  continued  to  pre- 
vail even  when  the  luxury  of  later  times,  together  with  the  de- 
generacy of  the  women  themselves,  had  made  the  establishment 
of  workshops  and  places  of  manufacture  for  this  purpose  neces- 


OCCUPATION    OF    WOMEN.  205 

sary.  Antique  art  has  frequently  treated  these  domestic  occu- 
pations. The  Attic  divinities,  Athene  Ergane  and  Aphrodite 
Urania,  as  well  as  the  Argive  Here,  Ilithyia,  the  protecting  god- 
dess of  child-bearing,  Persephone,  and  Artemis,  all  these  plastic 
art  represents   as  goddesses  of  fate,  weaving  the  thread   of  life, 


SOCIAL  ENJOYMENT  OP  WOMEN  (From  an  anczeiU  painting.) 

and,  at  the  same  time,  protecting  female  endeavors;  in  which 
two-fold  quality  the}'  have  the  emblem  of  domestic  activity,  the 
distaff,  as  their  attribute.  Only  a  few  representations  of  spinning 
goddesses  now  remain;  but  many  are  the  pictures  of  mortal 
spinning-maidens  painted  on  walls,  chiefly  for  female  use.  For  the 
spinning,  a  spindle  was  used,  as  is  still  the  case  in  places  where  the 


206  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

northern  spinning-wheel  has  not  supplanted  the  antique  custom. 
Homer  describes  noble  ladies  handling  the  distaft'  with  the  spindle 
belonging  to  it.  Helen  received  a  present  of  a  golden  spindle,  with  a 
silver  basket  to  keep  the  thread  in.  The  distaff,  with  a  bundle  of 
wool  or  flax  fastened  to  its  point,  was  held  under  the  left  arm,  while 
the  thumb  and  first  finger  of  the  right  hand,  slightly  wetted,  spun 
the  thread  at  the  end  of  which  hung  the  spindle,  made  of  metal. 
The  web  was,  from  the  spindle,  wound  round  a  reel,  to  be  fur- 
ther prepared  on  the  loom. 

Akin  to  spinning  are  the  arts  of  weaving  and  embroidering. 
We  frequently  see  in  vase-paintings  women  with  embroidering- 
frames  in  their  laps.  The  skill  of  Greek  ladies  in  embroidery  is 
sufficiently  proved  by  the  tasteful  embroidered  patterns  and 
borders  on  Greek  dresses,  both  of  men  and  women.  The  vase- 
paintings  supply  many  examples. 

Our  remarks  about  female  duties  in  preparing  the  meal  must 
be  short.  The  heavy  parts  of  the  duty,  like  grinding  the  corn  in 
hand-mills,  were  performed  by  servants.  In  the  palace  of  Odys- 
seus twelve  female  slaves  were  employed  all  day  in  grinding  wheat 
and  barley  in  an  equal  number  of  hand-mills,  to  supply  the 
numerous  guests.  The  hand-mill  consisted  (like  those  still  used 
in  some  Greek  islands)  of  two  stones,  each  about  two  feet  in 
diameter,  the  upper  one  of  which  was  made  to  rotate  by  means 
of  a  crooked  handle,  so  as  to  crush  the  corn  poured  through  an 
opening  in  it. 

Baking  and  roasting  meat  on  the  spit  were  among  the  duties 
of  female  slaves.  In  every  house  of  even  moderate  wealth,  sev- 
eral of  these  were  kept  as  cooks,  chambermaids,  and  companions 
of  the  ladies  on  their  walks,  it  being  deemed  improper  for  them 
to  leave  the  house  unaccompanied  by  several  slaves.  How  far 
ladies  took  immediate  part  in  the  preparing  of  dainty  dishes  we 
can  not  say.  In  later  times  it  became  customary  to  buy  or  hire 
male  slaves  as  cooks. 


BATHING. 


207 


Antique  representations  of  women  bathing,  adorning  them- 
selves, playing,  and  dancing,  are  numerous.  The  Athenian 
maiden,  unlike  her  Spartan  sister,  did  not  think  it  proper  to  pub- 
licly exhibit  her  bodily  skill  and  beauty  in  a  short  chiton,  but 
taking  a  bath  seems  to  have  been  among  her  every-day  habits 
as  is  shown  by  the  numerous  bathing  scenes  on  vases.  In  one 
of  them,  a  slave  pours  the  contents  of  a  hydria  over  her  nude 
mistress.  Cowering  on  the  floor  in  another  we  see  an  undressed 
woman  catching  in  her  hand  the  water-spout  issuing  from  a  mask 
of  Pan  in  the  wall  into  a  bath.  An  alabastron  and  comb  are 
lying  on  the  floor.  A  picture  on  an  amphora  in  the  museum  of 
Berlin  offers  a  most  interesting  view  of  the  interior  of  a  Greek 
bath-chamber.  We  see  a  bathing  establishment  built  in  the 
Doric  style.  By  a  row  of  columns  the  inner  space  is  divided 
into  two  bath-chambers,  each  for  two  women.  The  water  is  most 
likely  carried  by  pressure  to  the  tops  of  the  hollow  columns,  the 
communication  among  which  is  effected  by  means  of  pipes  about 
six  feet  from  the  ground.  The  openings  of  the  taps  are  formed 
into  neatly  modeled  heads  of  boars,  lions,  and  panthers,  from  the 
mouths  of  which  a  fine  rain  spray  is  thrown  on  the  bathers.  Their 
hair  has  been  tightly  arranged  into  plaits.  The  above-mentioned 
pipes  were  evidently  usea  for  hanging  up  the  towels;  perhaps 
they  were  even  filled  with  hot  water  to  warm  the  bathing  linen. 
Whether  our  picture  represents  a  public  or  private  bath  seems 
doubtful.  The  dressing  after  the  bath  has  also  been  frequently 
depicted. 

We  need  not  enter  upon  the  subject  here.  We  will  mention 
the  chief  utensils,  as  the  comb,  ointment-bottle,  muTor,  etc.,  on  a 
following  page.  The  scenes  thus  depicted  are  undoubtedly  bor- 
rowed from  daily  life,  although  Aphrodite,  with  her  attendance 
of  Cupids  and  Graces,  has  taken  the  place  of  mortal  women. 

For  music,  games,  and  dances,  we  mention  only  a  game  at 
ball,  which  was  played  in  a  dancing  measure,  and,  therefore,  con- 


2o8  DOMESTIC    LIFE, 

sidered  as  a  practice  of  graceful  movements.  Homer  mentions 
Nausikaa  as  a  skilled  player  of  this  game.  It  is  remarkable  that 
wherever  women  playing  at  ball  appear  in  pictures  they  are 
represented  in  a  sitting  posture.     (See  cut,  page  205.) 

The  swing  was  essentially  a  female  amusement.  In  com- 
memoration of  the  fate  of  Erigone,  daughter  of  Ikarios,  a  festival 
had  been  ordained  at  Athens  at  which  the  maidens  indulged  in 
the  loys  of  the  swing.  Illustrations  of  this  pastime  occur  fre- 
quently on  vases,  free  from  any  mythological  symbolism,  even  in 
cases  where  Eros  is  made  to  move  the  swing. 

We  now  come  to  the  point  in  the  maiden ^s  life  when  she 
is  to  preside  over  her  own  household  as  the  legitimate,  mate  of 
her  husband.  In  most  cases  Greek  marriage  was  a  matter  of  con- 
venience, a  man  considering  it  his  duty  to  provide  for  the  legiti- 
mate continuation  of  his  family.  The  Doric  tribe  did  not  attempt 
to  disguise  this  principle  in  its  plain-spoken  laws;  the  rest  of 
Greece  acknowledged  it  but  in  silence,  owing  to  a  more  refined 
conception  of  the  moral  significance  of  marriage. 

The  seclusion  of  female  life,  indeed,  made  the  question  of 
personal  charms  appear  of  secondary  importance.  Equity  of 
birth  and  wealth  were  the  chief  considerations.  The  choice  of  the 
Athenian  citizen  was  limited  to  Athenian  maidens;  only  in  that 
case  were  the  children  entitled  to  full  biithright,  the  issue  of  a 
marriage  of  an  Athenian  man  or  maiden  with  a  stranger  being 
considered  illegitimate  by  the  law.  Such  a  marriage  was,  in- 
deed, nothing  but  a  form  of  concubinage.  The  laws  referring  to 
this  point  vv^ere,  however,  frequently  evaded.  At  the  solemn  be- 
trothal, always  preceding  the  actual  marriage,  the  dowry  of  the 
bride  was  settled;  her  position  as  a  married  woman  greatl}'  de- 
pended upon  its  value.  Frequently  the  daughter  of  poor,  deserv- 
ing citizens  were  presented  with  a  dowry  by  the  state  or  by  a 
number  of  citizens. 

In  Homer's  time  the  bridegroom  wooed  the  bride  with  rich 


WEDDING    CEREMONIES. 


209 


gifts;  Iphidamas,  for  instance,  offers  a  hundred  heifers  and  a  thou- 
sand goats  as  a  nuptial  present.  But  afterwards  this  was  entirely 
reversed,  the  father  of  the  bride  having  to  provide  the  dowry, 
consisting  partly  in  cash,  partly  in  clothes,  jewelry,  and  slaves. 
In  cases  of  separation  the  dowry  had,  in  most  cases,  to  be  re- 
turned to  the  wife's  parents.  The  most  appropriate  age  for  con- 
tracting a  marriage,  Plato  in  his  Republic  fixes,  for  girls,  at 
twenty,  for  men,  at  thirty.  There  was,  however,  no  rule  to  this 
effect.  Parents  were  naturally  anxious  to  dispose  of  their  daugh- 
ters as  early  as  possible,  without  taking  objection  to  the  advanced 
years  of  the  wooer,  as  is  tersely  pointed  out  by  Aristophanes. 

The  actual  marriage  ceremony,  or  leading  home,  was  pre 
ceded  by  offerings  to  Zeus  Teleios,  Hera  Teleia,  Artemis  Eukleia 
and  other  deities  protecting  marriage.     The  bridal  bath  was  the 
second  ceremony,  which  both  bride  and  bridegroom  had  to  go 
through  previous  to  their  union. 

On  the  wedding  day,  towards  dark,  after  the  meal  at  her 
parental  home  was  over,*  the  bride  left  the  festively  adorned 
house,  and  was  conducted  by  the  bridegroom  in  a  chariot  to  his 
dwelling.  She  sat  between  the  bridegroom  and  the  best  man 
chosen  from  among  his  relatives  or  intimate  friends.  Accom- 
panied by  the  sounds  of  the  hymenseos,  and  the  festive  sounds  of 
flutes  and  friendly  acclamations  from  all  passers-by,  the  procession 
moved  slowly  towards  the  bridegroom's  house,  also  adorned  with 
wreaths  of  foliage.  The  mother  of  the  bride  walked  behind  the 
chariot,  with  the  wedding  torches,  kindled  at  the  parental  hearth, 
according  to  custom  immemorial.  At  the  door  of  the  bridegroom 
his  mother  was  awaiting  the  young  couple  with  burning  torches 
in  her  hand.  In  case  no  wedding^  meal  had  been  served  at  the 
bride's  house,  the  company  now  sat  down  to  it.  To  prognosticate 
the  desired  fertility  of  the  union,  cakes  of  sesame  were  distributed. 
The  same  symbolic  meaning  attached  to  the  quince,  which,  ac- 

*  At  this  meal,  contrary  to  the  usual  custom,  women  were  present. 


2IO  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

cording  to  Solon's  law,  the  bride  had  to  eat.  After  the  meal  the 
couple  retired  to  the  thalamos,  where  for  the  first  time  the  bride 
unveiled  herself  to  her  husband.  Before  the  door  of  the  bridal 
chamber  epithalamia  were  sung,  a  charming  specimen  of  which 
we  possess  in  the  bridal  hymn  of  Helena  by  Theokritos.  On 
the  two  first  days  after  the  wedding,  wedding-presents  were  re- 
ceived by  the  pair.  Not  till  after  these  days  did  the  bride  appear 
without  her  veil. 

Very  different  from  the  social  position  of  chaste  women  was 
that  of  the  hetairai.  We  are  not  speaking  of  the  lowest  class  of 
unfortunates,  worshiping  Aphrodite  Pandemos,  but  of  those  wo- 
men who,  owing  to  their  beauty  and  grace  of  conversation,  ex- 
erted great  influence  even  over  superior  men.  We  only  remind 
the  reader  of  Aspasia.  In  the  graces  of  society  the  hetairai  were 
naturally  superior  to  respectable  women,  owing  to  their  free  in- 
tercourse with  men.  For  the  hetairai  did  not  shun  the  light  of 
day,  and  were  not  restrained  by  the  law.  Only  the  house  of  the 
married  man  was  closed  to  them. 

Before  passing  from  private  to  public  life,  we  must  cast  a 
glance  at  the  early  education  of  the  child  by  the  mother.  We 
begin  with  the  earliest  days  of  infancy.  After  the  first  bath  the 
new-born  child  was  put  into  swaddling-clothes,  a  custom  not  per- 
mitted by  the  rougher  habits  of  Sparta.  On  the  fifth  or  seventh 
day  the  infant  had  to  go  through  the  ceremony  of  purification; 
the  midwife,  holding  him  in  her  arms,  walked  several  times 
round  the  burning  altar.  A  festive  meal  on  this  day  was  given 
to  the  family,  the  doors  being  decorated  with  an  olive  crown  for 
a  boy,  with  wool  for  a  girl.  On  the  tenth  day  after  its  birth, 
when  the  child  was  named,  another  feast  took  place.  This  cere- 
mony implied  the  acknowledgment,  on  the  part  of  the  father,  of 
the  child's  legitimacy.  The  name  of  the  child  was  chosen  by 
both  parents,  generally  after  the  name  of  either  of  the  grandpar- 
ents, sometimes,  also,  after  the  name  or  attributes  of  a  deity,  un- 


children's    toys.  211 

der  whose  particular  protection  the  child  was  thus  placed.  A 
sacrifice,  offered  chiefly  to  the  goddess  of  child-bearing,  Here 
Ilithyia,  and  a  meal,  concluded  the  ceremony.  At  the  latter, 
friends  and  relatives  presented  the  infant  with  toys  of  metal  or 
clay,  while  the  mother  received  painted  vases.  The  antique  cra- 
dle consisted  of  a  flat  swing  of  basket  work,  such  as  appears  in  a 
terra-cotta  relief  in  the  British  Museum,  of  the  infant  Bacchus 
being  carried  by  a  satyr  brandishing  a  thyrsus,  and  a  torch- 
bearing  bacchante.  Another  kind  of  cradle,  in  the  form  of  a 
shoe,  is  shown  containing  the  infant  Hermes,  recognizable  by  his 
petasos.  It  also  is  made  of  basket-work.  The  advantage  of  this 
cradle  consists  in  its  having  handles,  and,  therefore,  being  easily 
portable.  It  also  might  be  suspended  on  ropes,  and  rocked  with- 
out difficulty.  Other  cradles,  similar  to  our  modern  ones,  belong 
to  a  later  period.  The  singing  of  lullabies,  and  the  rocking  of 
children  to  sleep,  were  commoq  amongst  the  ancients.  Wet- 
nurses  were  commonly  employed  amongst  Ionian  tribes;  wealthy 
Athenians  chose  Spartan  nurses  in  preference,  as  being  generally 
strong  and  healthy.  After  the  child  had  been  weaned  it  was  fed 
by  the  dry  nurse  and  the  mother  with  pap,  made  chiefly  of 
honey. 

The  rattle,  said  to  be  invented  by  Archytas,  was  the  first  to}^ 
of  the  infant.  Other  toys  of  various  kinds  were  partly  b(^ught, 
partly  made  by  the  children  themselves  on  growing  older.  We 
mention  painted  clay  puppets,  representing  human  beings  or  am- 
mals,  such  as  tortoises,  hares,  ducks,  and  mother  apes  with  theii 
offspring.  Small  stones  were  put  inside,  so  as  to  produce  a  rat- 
tling noise;  which  circumstance,  together  with  the  fact  of  small 
figures  of  this  kind  being  frequently  found  on  children's  graves, 
proves  their  being  toys.  Small  wooden  carts,  houses  and  ships 
made  of  leather,  and  many  other  toys,  made  by  the  children 
themselves,  might  be  instanced.  Up  to  their  sixth  year  boys  and 
girls  were  brought  up  together  under  their  mother's  care;  from 


j:12  domestic    LIFE. 

that  point  their  education  became  separate.  The  education 
proper  of  the  boy  became  a  more  pubHc  one,  while  the  girl  was 
brought  up  by  the  mother  at  home,  in  a  most  simple  way,  ac- 
cording to  their  notions.  From  amongst  the  domestic  slaves  a 
trustworthy  companion  was  chosen  for  the  boy.  He  was,  how- 
ever, not  a  tutor  in  our  sense,  but  rather  a  faithful  servant,  who 
had  to  take  care  of  the  boy  in  his  walks,  particularly  on  his  way 
to  and  from  school.  He  also  had  to  instruct  his  pupil  in  certain 
rules  of  good  behavior.  The  boy  had,  for  instance,  to  walk  in 
the  street  with  his  head  bent,  as  a  sign  of  modesty,  and  to  make 
room  for  his  elders  meeting  him.  In  the  presence  of  the  latter 
he  had  to  preserve  a  respectful  silence.  Proper  behavior  at  ta- 
ble, a  graceful  way  of  wearing  his  garments,  etc.,  might  be  men- 
tioned as  kindred  subjects  of  education.  Boys  were  accompanied 
by  pedagogues  up  to  their  sixteenth  year.  The  latter  appear 
frequently  in  vase-paintings,  and  are  easily  recognizable  by  their 
dress,  consisting  of  chiton  and  cloak,  with  high-laced  boots;  they 
also  carry  sticks  with  crooked  handles,  and  their  hair  and  beards 
give  them  a  venerable  aspect;  while  their  pupils,  according  to 
Athenian  custom,  are  clad  more  lightly  and  gracefully.  The 
pedagogue  of  the  group  of  the  Niobides  is  well  known. 

Education  was,  at  Athens,  a  matter  of  private  enterprise. 
Schools  were  kept  by  private  teachers,  the  government  super- 
vision extending  only  to  the  moral  not  to  the  scientific  qualifica- 
tion of  the  schoolmaster.  Grammar,  music  and  gymnastics,  to 
which  Aristotle  adds  drawing,  as  a  means  of  esthetic  cultivation, 
were  the  common  subjects  of  education  at  schools  and  gymnasia; 
also  reading,  writing  and  arithmetic.  The  method  of  teaching 
how  to  write  consisted  in  the  master's  forming  the  letters,  which 
the  pupils  had  to  imitate  on  their  tablets,  sometimes  with  the 
master's  assistance.  The  writing  materials  were  small  tablets 
covered  with  wax,  into  which  the  letters  were  scratched  by 
means  of  a  pencil  made  of  metal  or  ivory.     It  was  pointed  at 


WRITING    MATERIALS. 


213 


one  end,  and  flattened  or  bent  at  the  other,  so  as  to  extinguish 
the  writing,  if  required,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  smooth  the 
surface  again  for  other  letters.  A  young  girl,  in  a  charming 
Pompeian  wall-painting,  has  in  her  hand  a  double  tablet,  while 
with  her  other  hand  she  holds  a  pencil  to  her  chin,  as  if  ponder- 
ing over  a  letter.  Her  nurse  looking  over  her  shoulder  tries  to 
decipher  the  contents  of  the  love-letter.  Besides  these  tablets, 
Herodotus  mentions  the  use  of  paper  made  of  the  bark  of  the 
Egyptian  papyrus-plant.  The  stalk  (three  or  four  feet  in  length) 
was  cut  longitudinally,  after  which  the  outer  bark  was  first  taken 
off;  the  remaining  layers  of  bark,  about  twenty  in  number,  were 
carefully  severed  with  a  pin;  and,  afterwards,  the  single  stripes 
plaited  crosswise;  by  means  of  pressing  and  perforating  the 
whole  with  lime-water,  the  necessary  consistency  of  the  material 
was  obtained.  The  lower  layers  of  bark  yielded  the  best  wri 
ting-paper,  while  the  outer  layers  were  made  into  packing-paper 
{emporeticd)  y  the  uppermost  bark  was  used  for  making  ropes. 
A  case  of  this  kind  full  of  parchment  rolls,  with  a  cover  to  it, 
stands  by  the  side  of  Klio  in  a  wall-painting  of  Herculaneum. 
In  her  left  hand  the  muse  holds  a  half-opened  roll  on  which  are 
inscribed  the  words  "  Klio  teaches  history."  The  ink  was  made 
of  a  black  coloring  substance;  it  was  kept  in  an  inkstand  made 
of  metal,  with  a  cover  to  it.  Double  inkstands,  frequently  seen 
on  monuments,  were  most  lik?!}  destined  for  the  keeping  of 
black  and  red  inks,  the  latter  of  which  was  frequently  used.  To 
write  on  paper  or  parchment,  the  ancients  used  the  Memphic, 
Gnidic,  or  Anaitic  reeds,  pointed  and  split  like  our  pens.  As 
we  mentioned  before,  it  was  the  custom  of  adults  to  write  either 
reclining  on  the  kline,  with  the  leaf  resting  on  the  bent  leg,  or 
sitting  in  a  low  arm-chair,  in  which  case  the  writing  apparatus 
was  supported  by  the  knee  of  the  writer.  The  latter  posture  is 
exemplified  by  a  reading  ephebos  in  a  vase-painting;  it  was,  un- 
doubtedly, also  that  of  the  boys  sitting  on  the  rising  steps  used 


214  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

as  forms  at  the  schools.  After  his  elementary  education  was 
completed,  the  boy  was  made  acquainted  with  the  works  of 
national  poetry,  particularly  with  the  poems  of  Homer,  the 
learning  by  heart  and  reciting  of  which  inspired  him  with 
patriotic  pride. 

Of  the  marriage  contracts  of  the  Egyptians  we  are  entirely 
ignorant,  nor  do  we  even  find  the  ceremony  represented  in  the 
paintings  of  their  tombs.  We  may,  however,  conclude  that  they 
were  regulated  by  the  customs  usual  among  civilized  nations  ; 
and,  if  the  authority  of  Diodorus  can  be  credited,  women  were 
indulged  with  greater  privileges  in  Eg3^pt  than  in  any  other 
country.  He  even  affirms  that  part  of  the  agreement  entered  into 
at  the  time  of  marriage  was,  that  the  wife  should  have  control 
over  her  husband,  and  that  no  objection  should  be  made  to  her 
coiumands^  whatever  they  might  be;  but,  though  we  have  suffi- 
cient to  convince  us  of  the  superior  treatment  of  women  among 
the  Egyptians,  as  well  from  ancient  authors  as  from  the  sculp- 
tures that  remain,  it  may  fairly  be  doubted  if  those  indulgences 
were  carried  to  the  extent  mentioned  by  the  historian,  or  that 
command  extended  beyond  the  management  of  the  house,  and  the 
regulation  of  domes lIc  affairs. 

It  is,  however,  remarkable  that  the  royal  authority  and  su- 
preme direction  of  affairs  were  entrusted  without  reserve  tc 
women,  as  in  those  states  of  modern  Europe  where  the  Salic  law 
has  not  been  introduced ;  and  we  not  only  find  examples  in  Egyp- 
tian history  of  queens  succeeding  to  the  throne,  but  Manetho  in- 
forms us  that  the  law,  according  this  important  privilege  to  the 
other  sex,  dated  as  early  as  the  reign  of  Binothris,  the  third 
monarch  of  the  second  dynasty. 

In  primitive  ages  the  duties  of  women  were  very  different 
from  those  of  later  and  more  civilized  periods,  and  varied  of 
course  according  to  the  habits  of  each  people.  Among  pastoral 
tribes  they  drew  water,  kept  the  sheep,   and  superintended  the 


FAMILIES,    SCHOOLS    AND    MARRIAGES.  215 

herds  as  well  as  flocks.  As  with  the  Arabs  of  the  present  day, 
they  prepared  both  the  furniture  and  the  woolen  stuffs  of  which 
the  tents  themselves  were  made,  ground  the  corn,  and  performed 
other  menial  offices.  They  were  also  engaged,  as  in  ancient 
Greece,  in  weaving,  spinning,  needlework,  embroidery,  and  other 
sedentary  occupations  within  doors. 

The  Egyptian  ladies  in  like  manner  employed  much  of  their 
time  with  the  needle;  and  the  sculptures  represent  many  females 
weaving  and  using  the  spindle.  But  they  were  not  kept  in  the 
same  secluded  manner  as  those  of  ancient  Greece,  who,  besides 
being  confined  to  certain  apartments  in  the  house,  most  remote 
from  the  hall  of  entrance,  and  generally  in  the  uppermost  part  of 
the  building,  were  not  even  allowed  to  go  out  of  doors  without  a 
veil,  as  in  many  Oriental  countries  at  the  present  day. 

The  Egyptians  treated  their  women  very  differently,  as  the 
accounts  of  ancient  authors  and  the  sculptures  sufficiently  prove. 
At  some  of  the  public  festivals  women  were  expected  to  attend — 
not  alone,  like  the  Moslem  women  at  a  mosque,  but  in  company 
with  their  husbands  or  relations ;  and  Josephus  states  that  on  an 
occasion  of  this  kind,  "when  it  was  the  custom  for  women  to  go 
to  the  public  solemnity,  the  wife  of  Potiphar,  having  pleaded  ill 
health  in  order  to  be  allowed  to  stay  at  home,  was  excused  from 
attending,"  and  availed  herself  of  the  absence  of  her  husband  to 
talk  with  Joseph. 

That  it  was  the  custom  of  the  Egyptians  to  have  only  one 
wife,  is  shown  by  Herodotus  and  the  monuments,  which  present 
so  many  scenes  illustrative  of  their  domestic  life;  and  Diodorus 
is  wrong  in  supposing  that  the  laity  were  allowed  to  marry  any 
number,  while  the  priests  were  limited  to  one. 

But  a  very  objectionable  custom,  which  is  not  only  noticed 
by  Diodorus,  but  is  fully  authenticated  by  the  sculptures  both  of 
Upper  and  Lower  Egypt,  existed  among  them  from  the  earliest 
times,  the  origin  and  policy  of  which  it  is  not  easy  to  explain — 


2l6  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

the  marriage  of  brother  and  sister — which  Diodorus  supposes  to 
have  been  owing  to,  and  sanctioned  by,  that  of  Isis  and  Osiris ; 
but  as  this  was  purely  an  allegorical  fable,  and  these  ideal  person- 
ages never  lived  on  earth,  his  conjecture  is  of  little  weight;  nor 
does  any  ancient  writer  otfer  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  so 
strange  a  custom. 

Though  the  Egyptians  confined  themselves  to  one  wife,  they, 
like  the  Jews  and  other  Eastern  nations,  both  of  ancient  and 
modern  times,  scrupled  not  to  admit  other  inmates  to  their 
hareem^  most  of  whom  appear  to  have  been  foreigners,  either 
taken  in  war,  or  brought  to  Egypt  to  be  sold  as  slaves.  They 
became  members  of  the  family,  like  those  in  Moslem  countries  at 
the  present  day,  and  not  only  ranked  next  to  the  wives  and  chil- 
dren of  their  lord,  but  probably  enjoyed  a  share  of  the  property 
at  his  death. 

These  women  were  white  or  black  slaves,  according  to  the 
countries  from  which  they  were  brought;  but,  generally  speak- 
ing, the  latter  were  employed  merely  as  domestics,  who  were  re- 
quired to  wait  upon  their  mistress  and  her  female  friends.  The 
former,  likewise,  officiated  as  servants,  though  they  of  course 
held  a  rank  above  the  black  slaves. 

The  same  custom  prevailed  among  the  Egyptians  regarding 
children,  as  with  the  Moslems  and  other  Eastern  people;  no  dis- 
tinction being  made  between  their  offspring  by  a  wife  or  any 
other  woman,  and  all  equally  enjoying  the  rights  of  inheritance; 
for,  since  they  considered  a  child  indebted  to  the  father  for  its 
existence,  it  seemed  unjust  to  deny  equal  rights  to  all  his 
progeny. 

In  speaking  of  the  duties  of  children  in  Egypt,  Herodotus 
declares,  that  if  a  son  was  unwilling  to  maintain  his  parents  he 
was  at  liberty  to  refuse,  but  that  a  daughter,  on  the  contrary, 
was  compelled  to  assist  them,  and,  on  refusal,  was  amenable  to 
law.     But  we  may  question  the  truth  of  this  statement;  and, 


DUTIES    OF    CHILDREN. 


217 


drawing  an  inference  from  the  marked  severity  of  filial  duties 
among  the  Egyptians,  some  of  which  we  find  distinctly  alluded 
to  in  the  sculptures  of  Thebes,  we  may  conclude  that  in  Egypt 
much  more  was  expected  from  a  son  than  in  any  civilized  nation 
of  the  present  day  ;  and  this  was  not  confined  to  the  lower 
orders,  but  extended  to  those  of  the  highest  ranks  of  society. 
And  if  the  office  of  fan-bearer  was  an  honorable  post,  and  the  sons 
of  the  monarch  were  preferred  to  fulfill  it,  no  ordinary  show  of 
humility  was  required  on  their  part ;  and  they  walked  on  foot  be- 
hind his  chariot,  bearing  certain  insignia  over  their  father  during 
the  triumphal  processions  which  took  place  in  commemoration 
of  his  victories,  and  in  the  religious  ceremonies  over  which  he 
presided. 

It  was  equally  a  custom  in  the  early  times  of  European  his- 
tory, that  a  son  should  pay  a  marked  deference  to  his  parent ;  and 
no  prince  was  allowed  to  sit  at  table  with  his  father,  unless 
through  his  valor,  having  been  invested  with  arms  by  a  foreign 
sovereign,  he  had  obtained  that  privilege;  as  was  the  case  with 
Alboin,  before  he  succeeded  his  father  on  the  throne  of  the  Lom- 
bards. The  European  nations  were  not  long  in  altering  their 
early  habits,  and  this  custom  soon  became  disregarded;  but  a 
respect  for  ancient  institutions,  and  those  ideas,  so  prevalent  in 
the  East,  which  reject  all  love  of  change,  prevented  the  Eg37ptians 
from  discarding  the  usages  of  their  ancestors;  and  we  find  this  and 
many  other  primitive  customs  retained,  even  at  the  period  when 
they  were  most  highly  civilized. 

In  the  education  of  youth  they  were  particularly  strict;  and 
"they  knew,"  says  Plato,  "that  children  ought  to  be  early  accus- 
tomed to  such  gestures,  looks,  and  motions  as  are  decent  and 
proper,  and  not  to  be  suffered  either  to  hear  or  learn  any  verses 
and  songs,  than  those  which  are  calculated  to  inspire  them  with 
virtue;  and  they  consequently  took  care  that  every  dance  and  ode 
introduced  at  their  feasts  or  sacrifices  should  be  subject  to  certain 
regulations." 


2l8  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

They  particularly  inculcated  respect  for  old  age;  and  the 
fact  of  this  being  required  even  towards  strangers,  argues  a  great 
regard  for  the  person  of  a  parent;  for  we  are  informed  that,  like 
the  Israelites  and  the  Lacedaemonians,  they  required  every  young 
man  to  give  place  to  his  superiors  in  years,  and  even,  if  seated^ 
to  rise  on  their  approach. 

Nor  were  these  honors  limited  to  their  lifetime ;  the  memory 
of  parents  and  ancestors  was  revered  through  succeeding  genera- 
tions; their  tombs  were  maintained  with  the  greatest  respect; 
liturgies  were  performed  by  their  children,  or  by  priests  at  their 
expense ;  and  we  have  previously  seen  what  advantage  was  taken 
of  this  feeling,  in  the  laws  concerning  debt. 

"  For  of  all  people,"  says  Diodorus,  "  the  Egyptians  retain  the 
highest  sense  of  a  favor  conferred  upon  them,  deeming  it  the 
greatest  charm  of  life  to  make  a  suitable  return  for  benefits  they 
have  received;"  and  from  the  high  estimation  in  which  the  feel- 
ing of  gratitude  was  held  among  them,  even  strangers  felt  a  rev- 
erence for  the  character  of  the  Egyptians. 

Through  this  impulse,  they  were  induced  to  solemnize  the 
funeral  obsequies  of  their  kings  with  the  enthusiasm  described  by 
the  historian;  and  to  this  he  partly  attributes  the  unexampled 
duration  of  the  Egyptian  monarchy. 

It  is  only  doing  justice  to  the  modern  Egyptians  to  say  that 
gratitude  is  still  a  distinguishing  trait  of  their  character ;  and 
this  is  one  of  the  many  qualities  inherited  by  them,  for  which 
their  predecessors  were  remarkable  ;  confirming  what  we  have 
before  stated,  that  the  general  peculiarities  of  a  people  are  re- 
tained, though  a  country  may  be  conquered,  and  nominally 
peopled  by  a  foreign  race. 


•XT- 


pRE^^,   JoiLET  AND  JeWELRY. 


We  now  come  to  the  dress  of  the  Ancients.  We  shall  have 
to  consider  those  articles  of  dress  used  as  a  protection  against 
the  weather,  and  those  prescribed  by  decency  or  fashion,  also  the 
coverings  of  the  head  and  the  feet,  the  arrangement  of  the  hair 
and  the  ornaments.  Unfortunately,  the  terminology  is,  in  many 
cases,  uncertain.  Many  points,  therefore,  must  remain  unde- 
cided. Before  entering  upon  details,  we  must  remark  that  the 
dress  of  the  Greeks,  compared  with  modern  fashion,  was  extremely 
simple  and  natural.  Owing  to  the  warmth  of  the  climate  and 
the  taste  of  the  inhabitants,  both  superfluous  and  tight  articles 
of  dress  were  dispensed  with.  Moreover,  the  body  was  allowed 
to  develop  its  natural  beauty  in  vigorous  exercise;  and  in  this 
harmony  and  beauty  of  the  limbs  the  Greeks  prided  themselves, 
which,  of  course,  reacted  favorably  on  the  character  of  the 
dress. 

Identical  with  this  in  form  is  the  chiton  worn  by  Doric 
women.  It  was  simple,  short-skirted,  and  with  a  slit  in  the 
upper  part  at  both  sides.  It  was  fastened  with  clasps  over  both 
shoulders,  and  shortened  as  far  as  the  knees  by  means  of  pulling 
it  through  the  girdle.  In  this  form  it  is  worn  by  two  maidens 
in  the  Louvre,  destined  for  the  service  of  the  Lakonian  Artemis 
at  Karyse.  They  carry  kinds  of  baskets  on  their  heads,  and 
are  performing  the  festive  dance  in  honor  of  the  goddess.  The 
exomis  is  worn  by  the  female  statue  in  the  Vatican  known  as  the 
*'  Springing  Amazon,"  and  also  by  statues  of  Artemis,  and  rep- 

219 


220 


DOMESTIC    I.IFE. 


resentations  of  that  goddess  on  gems  and  coins.  The  long 
chiton  for  women  reaching  down  to  the  feet,  and  only  a  little 
pulled  up  at  the  girdle,  we  see  in  a  vase  painting,  representing 
dancing  3'ouths  and  maidens,  the  former  wearing  the  short,  the 
latter  the  long,  chiton.  A  development  jf  the  long  chiton  is  the 
double-chiton.  It  was  a  very  large,  oblong  piece  of  woven  cloth, 
left  open  on  one  side,  like  the  Doric  chiton  for  men.  It  was 
equal  to  about  one  and  a  half  lengths  of  the  body.  The  over- 
hanging part  of  the  cloth  was  folded  round  the  chest  and  back, 
from  the  neck  downwards,  the  upper  edge  being  arranged  round 

the  neck,  and  the  two  open  cor- 
ners   clasped    together    on    one 
-^£^r      ,;'^>^^^^r:::-^%=^   ,«Q        shoulder.       On     this 

open  side,  therefore, 
the  naked  body  was 
visible.  Over  the 
other  shoulder  the  upper  edge  of  the  chiton  was  also  fastened 
with  a  clasp — these  clasps,  as  seen  in  annexed  cuts,  were  elaborate 
ornaments,  some  being  richly 
bejeweled,  others  being  made 
of  wrought  gold — the  arm  being 
put  through  the  opening  left 
between  this  clasp  and  the  corresponding  corner  of  the  cloth. 

In  the  same  way  was  arranged  the  half-open  chiton,  the 
open  side  of  which,  from  the  girdle  to  the  lower  hem,  was 
sewed  up.  A  bronze  statuette  illustrates  this  wa}^  of  putting  it 
on.  A  young  girl  is  about  to  join  together  on  her  left  shoulder 
the  chiton,  which  is  fastened  over  the  right  shoulder  by  means 
of  an  agraffe.  It  appears  clearly  that  the  whole  chiton  consists 
of  one  piece.  Together  with  the  open  and  half  open  kinds  of 
the  chiton,  we  also  find  the  closed  double-chiton  flowing  down  to 
the  feet.  It  was  a  piece  of  cloth  considerably  longer  than  the 
human  body,  and  closed  on  both  sides,  inside  of  which  the  per- 


THE    CHITON.  221 

son  putting  it  on  stood  as  in  a  cylinder.  As  in  the  chiton  of  the 
second  form,  the  overhanging  part  of  the  cloth  was  turned  out- 
ward, and  the  folded  rim  pulled  up  as  far  as  the  shoulders,  across 
which  (first  on  the  right,  and  after  it  on  the  left  side)  the  front 
and  back  parts  were  fastened  together  by  means  of  clasps,  the 
arms  being  put  through  the  two  openings  affected  in  this  manner. 
Round  the  hips  the  chiton  was  fastened  by  means  of  a  girdle, 
through  which  the  bottom  part  of  the  dress  trailing  along  the 
ground  was  pulled  up  just  far  enough  to  let  the  toes  be  visible. 
Above  the  girdle  the  chiton  was  arranged  in  shorter  or  longer 
picturesque  folds.  The  chief  alterations  of  var3ing  fashion 
applied   to  the  arrangement   of  the    diploidion    which    reached 


either  to  the  part  under  the  bosom  or  was  prolonged  as  far  as 
the  hips;  its  front  and  back  parts  might  either  be  clasped  to- 
gether across  the  shoulders,  or  the  two  rims  might  be  pulled 
across  the  upper  arm  as  far  as  the  elbow,  and  fastened  in  several 
places  by  means  of  buttons  or  agraffes,  so  that  the  naked  arm 
became  visible  in  the  intervals,  by  means  of  which  the  sleeveless 
chiton  received  the  appearance  of  one  with  sleeves.  Where  the 
diploidion  was  detached  from  the  chiton,  it  formed  a  kind  of 
handsome  cape,  which,  however,  in  its  shape,  strictly  resembled 
the  Diploidion  proper.  Its  shape  was  considerably  modified  by 
fashion,  taking  sometimes  the  form  of  a  close-fitting  jacket,  at 
others  (when  the  sides  remained  open)  that  of  a  kind  of  shawl, 
the  ends  of  which  sometimes  equaled  in  length  the  chiton  itself. 


222  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

In  the  latter  case,  the  ampechonion  was  naturally  at  least  three 
times  as  long  as  it  was  wide.  In  antique  pictures  women  some- 
times wear  a  second  shorter  chiton  over  the  other.  A  great 
many  varieties  of  dress,  more  distinguishable  in  the  vase-paint- 
ings, representing  realistic  scenes,  than  in  the  ideal  costumes  of 
sculptural  types,  we  must  omit,  particularly  as,  in  most  cases, 
they  may  be  reduced  to  the  described  general  principles. 

From  the  chiton  we  now  pass  to  the  articles  of  dress  of  the 
nature  of  cloaks.  They  also  show  throughout  an  oblong  form, 
diftering  in  this  essentially  from  the  Roman  toga.  It,  belonging 
to  this  class,  was  arranged  so  that  the  one  corner  was  thrown 
over  the  left  shoulder  in  front,  so  as  to  be  attached  to  the  body 
by  means  of  the  left  arm.  On  the  back  the  dress  was  pulled 
toward  the  right  side  so  as  to  cover  it  completely  up  to  the  right 
shoulder,  or,  at  least,  to  the  armpit,  in  which  latter  case  the 
rifht  shoulder  remained  uncovered.  Finally,  the  himation  was 
ao-ain  thrown  over  the  left  shoulder,  so  that  the  ends  fell  over  the 
back. 

Concerning  the  materials  of  the  described  garments,  we  have 
mentioned  before  that  linen  was  used  principally  by  the  lonians, 
wool  by  the  Dorians;  the  latter  material  in  the  course  of  time 
became  the  rule  for  male  garments  all  over  Greece.  The  change 
of  seasons  naturally  required  a  corresponding  modification  in  the 
thickness  of  these  woolen  garments;  accordingly  we  notice  the 
difference  between  summer  and  winter  dresses.  For  women's 
dresses,  besides  sheep's  wool  and  linen,  byssos,  most  likely  a  kind 
of  cotton,  was  commonly  used.  Something  like  the  byssos,  but 
much  finer,  was  the  material  of  which  the  celebrated  transparent 
dresses  were  woven  in  the  Isle  of  Amorgos;  they  consisted 
of  the  fibre  of  a  fine  sort  of  flax,  undoubtedly  resembling  our 
muslins  and  cambrics.  The  introduction  of  silk  into  Greece  is 
of  later  date,  while  in  Asia  it  was  known  at  a  very  early  period. 
From  the  interior   of  Asia  the   silk  was  imported  into  Greece, 


DRESS    MATERIALS. 


223 


partly  in  its  raw  state,  partly  worked  into  dresses.  Ready-made 
dresses  of  this  kind  differed  greatly  from  the  dresses  made  in 
Greece  of  the  imported  raw  silk.  The  Isle  of  Kos  was  the  first 
seat  of  silk  manufacture,  where  silk  dresses  were  produced 
rivaling  in  transparency  the  above-mentioned.  These  diaph- 
anous dresses,  clinging  close  to  the  body,  and  allowing  the 
color  of  the  skin  and  the  veins  to  be  seen,  have  been  frequently 
imitated  with  astonishing  skill  by  Greek  sculptors  and  painters. 
We  only  remind  the  reader  of  the  beautifully  modeled  folds  of 
the  chiton  covering  the  upper  part  of  the  body  of  Niobe's  young- 
est daughter,  in  a  kneeling  position,  who  seeks  shelter  in  the  lap 
of  her  mother;  in  painting,  several  wall-pictures  of  Pompeii  may 
be  cited. 

The  antiquated  notion  of  white  having  been  the  universal 
color  of  Greek  garments,  a  colored  dress  being  considered  im- 
modest, has  been  refuted  by  Becker.  It  is,  however,  likely  that, 
with  the  cloak-like  epiblememata,  white-  was  the  usual  color,  as 
is  still  the  case  amongst  Oriental  nations  much  exposed  to  the 
sun.  Brown  cloaks  are,  however,  by  no  means  unusual;  neither 
were  they  amongst  Greek  men.  Party-colored  Oriental  gar- 
ments were  also  used,  at  least  by  the  wealthy  Greek  classes,  both 
for  male  and  female  dresses,  while  white  still  remained  the  favor- 
ite color  with  modest  Greek  women.  This  is  proved,  not  to 
mention  written  evidence,  by  a  number  of  small  painted  statuettes 
of  burnt  clay,  as  also  by  several  pictures  on  lekythoi  from  Attic 
graves.  The  original  colors  of  the  dresses,  although  (particularly 
the  reds)  slightly  altered  from  the  burning  process,  may  still  be 
distinctly  recognized. 

The  dresses  were  frequently  adorned  with  interwoven  patterns, 
or  attached  borders  and  embroideries.  From  Babylon  and  Phry- 
gia,  the  ancient  seats  of  the  weaving  and  embroidering  arts,  these 
crafts  spread  over  the  occidental  world,  the  name  "Phrygiones,'^ 
Tised  in  Rome  at  a  later  period  for  artists  of  this  kind,  reminding 


22. 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


one  of  this  origin.  As  we  learn  from  the  monuments,  the  simplest 
border  either  woven  or  sewed  to  the  dresses,  consisted  of  one  or 
more  dark  stripes,  either  parallel  with  the  seams  of  the  chiton, 
himation,  and  ampechonion,  or  running  down  to  the  hem  of  the 
chiton  from  the  girdle  at  the  sides  or  from  the  throat  in  front. 
The  vertical  ornaments  correspond  to  the  Roman  clavus.     Be- 


sides these  ornaments  in  stripes,  we  also  meet  with  others  broader 
and  more  complicated;  whether  woven  into,  or  sewed  on,  the 
dress  seems  doubtful.  They  cover  the  chiton  from  the  hem  up- 
wards to  the  knee,  and  above  the  girdle  up  to  the  neck,  as  is  seen 
in  the  chiton  worn  by  the  spring  goddess  Opora,  in  a  vase-paint- 
insf.  The  whole  chiton  is  sometimes  covered  with  star  or  dice 
patterns,  particularly  on  vases  of  the  archaic  style.  The  vase- 
painters  of  the  decaying  period  chiefly  represent  Phrygian  dresses 
with  gold  fringes  and  sumptuous  embroideries  of  palmetto 
and  "  meandering"  patterns,  such  as  were  worn  by  the  luxurious 
South-Italian  Greeks.  Such  a  sumptuous  dress  is  worn  by  Medea 
in  a  picture  of  the  death  of  Talos  on  an  Apulian  amphora  in  the 
Jatta  collection  at  Ruvo.  In  the  same  picture  the  chitones  of 
Kastor  and  Polydeukes,  and  those  of  the  Argonautai,  are  covered 
with  palmetto  embroideries,  the  edges  at  the  bottom  showing 
mythological  scenes  on  the  dark  ground. 

In  the  cities  Greeks  walked  mostly  bareheaded,  owing  most 
likely  to  the  more  plentiful  hair  of  southern  nations,  which,  more- 
over, was  cultivated  by  the  Greeks  with  particular  care.  Travel- 
ers, hunters,  and  such  artificers  as  were  particularly  exposed  to 
the  sun,  used  light  coverings  for  their  heads.  The  different  forms 


STYLES    OF    WEARING    HAIR. 


225 


of  these  may  be  classified.  They  were  made  of  the  skins  of 
dogs,  weasels,  or  cows. 

The  hair  is  considered  in  Homer  as  one  of  the  greatest  sifj^ns 
of  male  beauty  among  the  long-haired  Achaioi;  no  less  were  the 
well-arranged  locks  of  maidens  and  women  praised  bv  the  tragic 
poets.  Among  the  Spartans  it  became  a  sacred  custom,  derived 
from  the  laws  of  Lykurgos,  to  let  the  hair  of  the  boy  grow  as 
soon  as  he  reached  the  age  of  the  ephebos,  while  up  to  that  time 
it  was  cut  short.  This  custom  prevailed  among  the  Spartans  up 
to  their  being  overpowered  by  the  Achaic  federation.  Altogether 
the  Dorian  character  did  not  admit  of  much  attention  being  paid 
to  the  arrangement  of  the  hair.  Only  on  solemn  occasions,  for 
instance  on  the  eve  of  the  battle  of  Thermopylge,  the  Spartans 
arranged  their  hair  with  particular  c^rf^. 

At  Athens,  about  the  time  of  the  Persian  wars,  men  used  to 
wear  their  hair  long,  tied  on  to  the  top  of  the  head  in  a  knot, 
which  was  fastened  by  a  hair-pin  in  the  form  of  a  cicada.  Of  this 
custom,  however,  the  monuments  offer  no  example.  Only  in  the 
pictures  of  two  Pankratiastai,  on  a  monument  dating  most  likely 
from  Roman  times,  we  discover  an  analogy  to  this  old  Attic  cus- 
tom. After  the  Persian  war,  when  the  dress  and  manners  of  the 
lonians  had  undergone  a  change,  it  became  the  custom  to  cut  off 
the  long  hair  of  the  boys  on  their  attaining  the  age  of  epheboi, 
and  devote  it  as  an  offering  to  a  god,  for  instance,  to  the  Delphic 
Apollo  or  some  local  river-god.  Attic  citizens,  however,  bv  no 
means  wore  their  hair  cropped  short,  like  their  slaves,  but  used 
to  let  it  grow  according  to  their  own  taste  or  the  common  fashion. 
Only  dandies,  as,  for  instance,  Alkibiades,  let  their  hair  fall  down 
to  their  shoulders  in  long  locks.  Philosophers  also  occasionally 
attempted  to  revive  old  customs  by  wearing  their  hair  long. 

The  beard  was  carefully  attended  to  by  the  Greeks.  The 
barber's  shop,  with  its  talkative  inmate,  was  not  only  frequented 
by  those  requiring  the  services  of  the  barber  in  cutting  the  hair, 

15 


220  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

shaving,  rutting  the  nails  and  corns,  and  tearing  out  small  hairs, 
but  it  was  also,  as  Plutarch  says,  a  symposion  without  wine, 
where  political  and  local  news  were  discussed.  Alkiphron 
depicts  a  Greek  barber  in  the  following  words:   "You  see  how 

the  d d  barber  in  yon  street  has  treated  me;  the  talker,  who 

puts  up  the  Brundisian  looking-glass,  and  makes  his  knives  to 
clash  harmoniously.  I  went  to  him  to  be  shaved;  he  received 
me  politely,  put  me  in  a  high  chair,  enveloped  me  in  a  clean 
towel,  and  stroked  the  razor  gently  down  my  cheek,  so  as  to 
remove  the  thick  hair.  But  this  was  a  malicious  trick  of  his. 
He  did  it  partly,  not  all  over  the  chin;  some  places  he  left  rough, 
others  he  made  smooth  without  my  noticing  it."  After  the 
time  of  Alexander  the  Great,  a  barber's  business  became  lucra- 
tive,  owing  to  the  custom  of  wearing  a  full  beard  being  aban- 
doned, notwithstanding  the  remonstrances  of  several  states."^  In 
works  of  art,  particularl}'  in  portrait  statues,  the  beard  is  always 
treated  as  an  individual  characteristic.  It  is  mostly  arranged  in 
graceful  locks,  and  covers  the  chin,  lips  and  cheeks,  without  a 
separation  being  made  between  whiskers  and  moustache.  Only 
in  archaic  renderings  the  wedge-like  beard  is  combed  in  long 
wavy  lines,  and  the  whiskers  are  strictly  parted  from  the  mous- 
tache. As  an  example  we  quote  the  nobly  formed  head  of  Zeus 
crowned  with  the  stephane  in  the  Talleyrand  collection.  The 
usual  color  of  the  hair  being  dark,  fair  hair  was  considered  a 
great  beauty.  Homer  gives  yellow  locks  to  Menelaos,  Achilles, 
and  Meleagros;  and  Euripides  describes  Menelaos  and  Dionysos 
as  fair-haired. 

The  head-dress  of  women  was  in  simple  taste.  Hats  were 
not  worn,  as  a  rule,  because,  at  least  in  Athens,  the  appearance 
of  women   in  the   public   street  was    considered    improper,  and 

*  According  to  tradition,  m.iny  Makedonians  were  Icilled  by  the  Persians  taking 
hold  of  their  long  I)eards,  and  pulling  them  to  the  ground.  Alexander,  in  consequence, 
had  his  troops  shaved  during  the  battle. 


HEAD-DRESS    OF    WOMEN. 


227 


therelbre  happened  only  on  exceptional  occasions.  On  journeys 
women  wore  a  light  broad-brimmed  petasos  as  a  protection  from 
the  sun.  With  a  Thessalian  hat  of  this  kind  Lsmene  appears  in 
"  CEdipus  in  Kolonos.''  The  head-dress  of  Athenian  ladi'r^  at 
home  and   in  the  street   consisted,   beyond   the   customary   ^  ':il, 


HAIR-DRESS.    {Fvuiii  Poiupeii.) 

chiefly  of  different  contrivances  for  holding  together  their  plenti- 
ful hair.  We  mentioned  before,  that  the  himation  was  some- 
times pulled  over  the  back  of  the  head  like  a  veil.  But  at  a 
very  early  period  Greek  women  wore  much  shorter  or  longer 
veils,  which  covered  the  face  up  to  the  eyes,  and  fell  over  the 
neck  and  back  in  large  folds,  so  as  to  cover,  if  necessary,  the 
whole  upper  part  of  the  body.  The  care  bestowed  on  the  hair 
was  naturally  still  greater  amongst  women  than  amongst  men. 
Cut  shows  a  number  of  heads  of  Athenian  women,  taken  from 
an  old  painting  of  Pompeii.  These,  and  the  numerous  heads 
represented  in  sculptures  and  gems,  give  an  idea  of  the  exquisite 
taste  of  these  head-dresses.  At  the  same  time,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  most  modern  fashions,  even  the  ugly  ones,  have  their 
models,   if  not   in   Greek,   at   least    in    Roman    antiquity.     The 


228  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

combing  of  the  hair  over  the  back  in  wavy  Hnes  was  undoubtedly 
much  in  favor.  A  simple  ribbon  tied  round  the  head,  in  that 
case,  connected  the  front  with  the  back  hair.  This  arrangement 
we  meet  with  in  the  maidens  of  the  Parthenon  frieze  and  in  a 
bust  of  Niobe.  On  older  monuments,  for  instance,  in  the  group 
of  the  Graces  on  the  triangular  altar  in  the  Louvre,  the  front 
hair  is  arranged  in  small  ringlets,  while  the  back  hair  partly  falls 
smoothly  over  the  neck,  and  partly  is  made  into  long  curls 
hanofino:  down  to  the  shoulders.  It  was  also  not  unusual  to  comb 
back  the  front  hair  over  the  temples  and  ears,  and  tie  it,  together 
with  the  back  hair,  into  a  graceful  knot.  Here,  also,  the  above- 
mentioned  ribbon  was  used.  It  consisted  of  a  stripe  of  cloth  or 
leather,  frequently  adorned,  where  it  rested  on  the  forehead,  with 
a  plaque  of  metal  formed  like  a  frontal.  This  stephane  appears 
on  monuments  mostly  in  the  hair  of  goddesses;  the  ribbon  be- 
longing to  it,  in  that  case,  takes  the  form  of  a  broad  metal  circle 
destined  no  more  to  hold  together,  but  to  decorate  the  hair. 
This  is  the  case  in  a  bust  of  Here  in  the  Villa  Ludovisi,  in  the 
statue  of  the  same  goddess  in  the  Vatican,  and  in  a  statue  of 
Aphrodite  found  at  Capua.  Besides  this  another  ornamented  tie 
of  cloth  or  leather  was  used  by  the  Greeks,  broad  in  the  centre 
and  growing  narrower  towards  both  ends.  Its  shape  had  great 
similarity  to  the  sling.  It  was  either  put  with  its  broader  side 
on  the  front  of  the  head,  the  ends,  with  ribbons  tied  to  them,  be- 
ing covered  by  the  thick  black  hair,  or  vice  versa;  in  which  latter 
case  the  ends  were  tied  on  the  forehead  in  an  elaborate  knot. 
The  net,  and  after  it  the  kerchief,  were  developed  from  the  simple 
ribbon,  in  the  same  manner  as  straps  on  the  feet  gradually  became 
boots. 

The  kekryphalos  proper  consists  of  a  net-like  combination  of 
ribbon  and  gold  thread,  thrown  over  the  back  hair  to  prevent  it 
from  dropping.  The  large  tetradrachmai  of  Syrakuse,  bearing 
the  signature  of  the  engraver,  Kimon,  show  a  beautiful  head  of 


HAIR-PINS. 


229 


Arethusa  adorned  with  the  kekryphalos.  More  frequent  is  the 
coil-Hke  kekryphalos  covering  the  whole  hair,  or  only  the  back 
hair,  and  tied  into  a  knot  at  the  top. 

The  niodihcations  of  the  sakkos,  and  the  way  of  its  being 
tied,  are  chiefly  illustrated  by  vase-paintings.  At  the  present  day 
the  Greek  women  of  Thessaly  and  the  Isle  of  Chios  wear  a  head- 
dress exactly  resembling  the  antique  sakkos.  The  acquaintance 
of  the  Greeks  with  the  curling-iron  and  cosmetic  mysteries,  such 
as  oil  and  pomatum,  can  be  proved  both  by  written  evidence  and 
pictures.  It  quite  tallied  with  the  aesthetical  notions  of  the  Greeks 
to  shorten  the  forehead  by  dropping  the  hair  over  it,  many  ex- 
amples of  which,  in  pictures  of  both  men  and  women,  are  pre- 
served to  us. 

We  conclude  our  remarks  about  dress  with  the  description 
of  some  ornaments,  the  specimens  of  which  in  Greek  graves  and 
in  sculptural  imitations  are  numerous.  In  Homer  the  wooers  tr}'' 
to  gain  the  favor  of  Penelope  with  golden  breastpins,  agraffes, 
ear-rings,  and  chains.  Hephaistos  is,  in  the  same  work,  men- 
tioned as  the  artificer  of  beautiful  rings  and  hair-pins.  The  same 
ornaments  we  meet  with  again  at  a  later  period  as  important 
articles  of  female  dress. 

Many  preserved  specimens  show  the  great  skill  of  Greek 
goldsmiths'  breastpins.  Hair-pins,  in  our  sense,  and  combs  for 
parting  and  holding  up  the  hair  were  unknown  to  the  Greeks. 
The  double  or  simple  comb  of  Greek  ladies,  made  of  box-wood, 
ivory,  or  metal,  was  used  only  for  combing  the  hair.  The  back 
hair  was  prevented  from  dropping  by  means  of  long  hair-pins,  the 
heads  of  which  frequently  consisted  of  a  graceful  piece  of  sculp- 
ture. Well  known  are  the  hair-pins  adorned  with  a  golden  cicada 
which,  in  Solon's  time,  were  used  by  both  Athenian  men  and 
women  for  the  fastening  of  the  krobylos. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  Greeks  to  adorn  their  heads  on  fes^ 
tive  occasions   with  wreaths  and  garlands.     Thus   adorned   the 


230 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


bridegroom  led  home  the  bride.  Flowers  full  of  symbolic  mean- 
ino-  were  oftered  on  the  altars  of  the  gods,  and  the.  topers  at 
carousals  were  crowned  with  wreaths  of  myrtle,  roses,  and  violets, 
the  latter  being  the  favorite  flower  with  the  Athenians.  The 
flower-market  of  Athens  was  always  supplied  with  garlands  to 
twine  round  the  head  and  the  upper  part  of  the  body;  for  the  lat- 
ter also  was  adorned  with  garlands.  Crowns  consisting  of  other 
flowers,  and  leaves  of  the  ivy  and  silver-poplar,  are  frequently 
mentioned.  Wreaths  also  found  a  place  in  the  serious  business 
of  life.  They  were  awarded  to  the  victors  in  the  games;  the 
archon  wore  a  myrtle-wreath  as  the  sign  of  his  dignity,  as  did 
also  the  orator  while  speaking  to  the  people  from  the  tribune. 

The  crowning  with  flowers  was  a  high  honor  to  Athenian 
citizens — awarded,  for  instance,  to  Perikles,  but  refused  to  Milti- 
ades.  The  head  and  bier  of  the  dead  were  also  crowned  with 
fresh  wreaths  of  myrtle  and  ivy. 

The  luxury  of  later  times  changed  the  wreaths  of  flowers 
for  golden  ones,  with  regard  to  the  dead  of  the  richer  classes. 
Wreaths  made  of  thin  gold  have  repeatedly  been  found  in  graves. 
The  barrows  of  the  old  Pantikapaion  have  yielded  several  beauti- 
ful wreaths  of  ivy  and  ears  of  corn ;  a  gold  imitation  of  a  crown 
of  myrtle  has  been  found  in  a  grave  in  Ithaka.  Other  specimens 
from  Greek  and  Roman  graves  are  preserved  in  our  museums. 
A  golden  crown  of  Greek  workmanship,  found  at  Armento,  a  vil- 
lage of  the  Basilicata  (at  present  in  Munich),  is  particularly  re- 
markable. A  twig  of  oak  forms  the  ground,  from  among  the 
thin  golden  leaves  of  which  spring  forth  asters  with  chalices  of 
blue  enamel,  convolvulus,  narcissus,  ivy,  roses,  and  myrtle,  grace- 
fully intertwined.  On  the  upper  bend  of  the  crown  is  the  image 
of  a  winged  goddess,  from  the  head  of  which,  among  pieces  of 
grass,  rises  the  slender  stalk  of  a  rose.  Four  naked  male  genii 
and  two  draped  female  ones,  floating  over  the  flowers,  point 
towards  the  goddess,  who  stands  on  a  pedestal  bearing  an  in- 
scription. 


SUNSHADES. 


271 


Greek,  particularly  Athenian,  women  carried  a  sunshade,  or 
employed  slaves  to  hold  it  over  them.  In  the  Panathenaic  pro- 
cession even  the  daughters  of  metoikoi  had  to  perform  this  ser- 
vice. Such  sunshades,  which,  like  our  own,  could  be  shut  by 
means  of  wires,  we  often  see  depicted  on  vases  and  Etruscan 
mirrors.  This  form  was  undoubtedly  the  most  common  one. 
The  cap-like  sunshade  painted  on  a  skyphos,  which  a  Silenus,  in- 
stead of  a  servant,  holds  over  a  dignified  lady  walking  in  front 
of  him,  is  undoubtedly  intended  as  a  parody,  perhaps  copied  from 
the  scene  of  a  comedy.  In  vase  paintings  we  also  see  frequently 
the  leaf  like  painted  fan  in  the  hands  of  women. 


TOILET  ARTICLES   FOUND  AT  POMPEII. 


The  above  articles  were  in  good  preservation  when  found. 
a^  /, ;?,  are  hand-mirrors;  ni^  is  a  w.all-mirror;  ^,  toilet-box,  made 
of  ivory  and  beautifully  carved ;  d  and  k^  bronze  combs ;  2,  fint 
comb;  ^,  ear  and  tooth-pick;  /*,  pin-box,  with  glass  and  steel  pins; 
^,  salve-box;  ^,  hair-pins  made  of  ivory  and  gold;  ^,  is  a  pow- 
der or  paint-box. 

Of  the  secrets  of  Greek  toilette  we  will  only  disclose  the  fact 
that  ladies  knew  the  use  of  paint.  The  white  they  used  con- 
sisted of  white-lead;  their  reds  were  made  either  of  red  minium 
or  of  a  root.  This  unwholesome  fashion  of  painting  was  even 
extended  to  the  eyebrows,  for  which  black  color  was  used,  made 
either  of  pulverized  antimony  or  of  fine  soot. 


232 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


The  mirrors  of  the  Greeks  consisted  of  circular  pieces  of 
polished  bronze,  either  without  a  handle  or  with  one  richly 
adorned.  Frequently  a  cover,  for  the  reflecting  surface,  was 
added.  The  Etruscan  custom  of  engraving  figures  on  the  back 
of  the  mirror  or  the  cover  seems  to  have  been  rare  among  the 
Greeks,  to  judge,  at  least,  from  the  numerous  specimens  of  mir- 
rors found  in  Greek  graves.  Characteristic  of  these  are,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  tasteful  handles,  representing  mostly  Aphrodite, 
as  in  a  manner  the  ideal  of  a  beautifully  adorned  woman.  These 
hand-mirrors  frequently  occur  in  vase  paintings,  particularly  in 
those  containing  bathing  utensils. 

The  carrying  of  a  stick  seems  to  have  been  a  common  cus- 
tom. It  is  mostly  of  great  length,  with  a  crutched  handle; 
young  Athenian  dandies  may  have  used  shorter  walking-sticks. 
The  first-mentioned  sticks  seem  to  have  been  used  principally  for 
leaning  n.pon  in  standing  still,  as  is  indicated  by  frequent  repre- 
sentations in  pictures. 


j^RlME^   AND  "PuNI^HjVlENTg;     j^OJ^TRACTg, 

Peed?,  gic. 

Truth  or  justice  was  thought  to  be  the  main  cardinal  virtue 
among  the  Egyptians,  inasmuch  as  it  relates  more  particularly  to 
others;  prudence,  temperance,  and  fortitude  being  relative  quali- 
ties, and  tending  chiefly  to  the  immediate  benefit  of  the  individual 
who  possesses  them.  It  was,  therefore,  with  great  earnestness  that 
they  inculcated  the  necessity  of  fully  appreciating  it;  and  false- 
hood was  not  only  considered  disgraceful,  but  when  it  entailed  an 
injury  on  any  other  person  was  punishable  by  law. 

A  calumniator  of  the  dead  was  condemned  to  a  severe  pun- 
ishment; and  a  false  accuser  was  doomed  to  the  same  sentence 
which  would  have  been  awarded  to  the  accused,  if  the  offense 
had  been  proved  against  him;  but  to  maintain  a  falsehood  by  an 
oath  was  deemed  the  blackest  crime,  and  one  which,  from  its 
complicated  nature,  could  be  punished  by  nothing  short  of  death. 
For  they  considered  that  it  involved  two  distinct  crimes — a  con- 
tempt for  the  gods,  and  a  violation  of  faith  towards  man;  the  for- 
mer the  direct  promoter  of  every  sin,  the  latter  destructive  of  all 
those  ties  which  are  most  essential  for  the  welfare  of  society. 

The  willful  murder  of  a  freeman,  or  even  of  a  slave^  was 
punished  with  death,  from  the  conviction  that  men  ought  to  be 
restrained  from  the  commission  of  sin,  not  on  account  of  any  dis- 
tinction of  station  in  life,  but  from  the  light  in  which  they  viewed 
the  crime  itself;  while  at  the  same  time  it  had  the  effect  of  show- 
ing that  if  the  murder  of  a  slave  was  deemed  an  offense  deserv- 

233 


234 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


ino-  of  SO  severe  a  punishment,  they  ought  still  more  to  shrink 
from  the  m.urder  of  one  who  was  a  compatriot  and  a  free-born 
citizen. 

In  this  law  we  observe  a  scrupulous  regard  to  justice  and 
humanit}',  and  have  an  unquestionable  proof  of  the  great  advance- 
ment made  by  the  Egyptians  in  the  most  essential  points  of  civ- 
ilization. Indeed,  the  Egyptians  considered  it  so  heinous  a  crime 
to  deprive  a  man  of  life,  that  to  be  the  accidental  witness  of  an 
attempt  to  murder,  without  endeavoring  to  prevent  it,  was  a  cap- 
ital oflcnse,  which  could  only  be  palliated  by  bringing  proofs  ol 
inability  to  act. 

With  the  same  spirit  they  decided  that  to  be  present  when 
any  one  inflicted  a  personal  injury  on  another,  without  interfering, 
was  tantamount  to  being  a  party,  and  was  punishable  according 
to  the  extent  of  the  assault;  and  every  one  who  witnessed  a  rob- 
bery was  bound  either  to  arrest,  or,  if  that  was  out  of  his  power, 
to  lay  an  information,  and  to  prosecute  the  oftenders;  and  any 
neglect  on  this  score  being  proved  against  him,  the  delinquent 
was  condemned  to  receive  a  stated  number  of  stripes,  and  to  be 
kept  without  food  for  three  whole  days. 

Although,  in  the  case  of  murder,  the  Egyptian  law  was  in- 
exorable and  severe,  the  royal  prerogative  might  be  exerted  in 
favor  of  a  culprit,  and  the  punishment  was  sometimes  commuted 
by  a  mandate  from  the  king. 

Sabaco,  indeed,  during  the  fifty  years  of  his  reign,  "  made  it 
a  rule  not  to  punish  his  subjects  with  death,"  whether  guilty  of 
murder  or  any  other  capital  oflTence,  but,  "  according  to  the  mag- 
nitude of  their  crimes,  he  condemned  the  culprits  to  raise  the 
ground  about  the  town  to  which  they  belonged.  By  these  means 
the  situation  of  the  diflerent  cities  became  greatly  elevated  above 
the  reach  of  the  inundation,  even  more  than  in  the  time  of  Sesos- 
tris;"  and  either  on  account  of  a  greater  proportion  of  criminals, 
or  from  some  other  cause,  the  mounds  of  Bubastis  were  raised 
considerably  higher  than  those  of  anv  other  city. 


PUNISHMENTS. 


235 


The  same  laws  that  forbade  a  master  to  punish  a  slave  with 
death  took  from  a  father  every  right  over  the  life  of  his  offspring; 
and  the  Egyptians  deemed  themurder  of  a  ehild  an  odious  crime, 
that  called  for  the  direct  interposition  of  justice.  They  did  not, 
however,  punish  it  as  a  capital  offence,  since  it  appeared  incon- 
sistent to  take  away  life  from  one  who  had  given  it  to  the  child, 
but  preferred  inflicting  such  a  punishment  as  would  induce  grief 
and  repentance.  With  this  view  they  ordained  that  the  corpse 
of  the  deceased  should  be  fastened  to  the  neck  of  its  parent,  and 
that  he  should  be  obliged  to  pass  three  whole  days  and  nights  in 
its  embrace,  under  the  surveillance  of  a  public  guard. 

But  parricide  was  visited  with  the  most  cruel  of  chastise- 
ments; and  conce-iving,  as  they  did,  that  the  murder  of  a  parent 
was  the  most  unnatural  of  crimes,  they  endeavored  to  prevent  its 
occurrence  by  the  marked  severity  with  which  it  was  avenged. 
The  criminal  was,  therefore,  sentenced  to  be  lacerated  with 
sharpened  reeds,  and,  after  being  thrown  on  thorns,  he  was  burned 
to  death. 

When  a  woman  was  guilty  of  a  capital  oftence,  and  judg- 
ment had  been  passed  upon  her,  they  were  particularly  careful  to 
ascertain  if  the  condemned  was  in  a  state  of  pregnancy;  in  which 
case  her  punishment  was  deferred  till  after  the  birth  of  the  child, 
in  order  that  the  innocent  might  not  suffer  with  the  guilty,  and 
thus  the  father  be  deprived  of  that  child  to  which  he  had  at  least 
an  equal  right. 

But  some  of  their  laws  regarding  the  female  sex  were  cruel 
and  unjustifiable;  and  even  if,  which  is  highly  improbable,  they 
succeeded  by  their  severity  in  enforcing  chastit}',  and  in  putting 
an  effectual  stop  to  crime,  3^et  the  punishment  rather  reminds  us 
of  the  laws  of  a  barbarous  people  than  of  a  wise  and  civilized 
state.  A  woman  who  had  committed  adultery  was  sentenced  to 
lose  her  nose,  upon  the  principle  that,  being  the  most  conspicuous 
feature,  and  the  chief,  or,  at  least,  an  indispensable,  ornament  of 


236  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

the  face,  its  loss  would  be  most  severely  felt,  and  be  the  greatest 
detriment  to  her  personal  charms;  and  the  man  was  condemned 
to  receive  a  bastinado  of  one  thousand  blows.  But  if  it  was 
proved  that  force  had  been  used  against  a  free  woman,  he  was 
doomed  to  a  cruel  mutilation. 

The  object  of  the  Egyptian  laws  was  to  preserve  life,  and  to 
reclaim  an  offender.  Death  took  away  every  chance  of  repent- 
ance, it  deprived  the  country  of  his  services,  and  he  was  hurried 
out  of  the  world  when  least  prepared  to  meet  the  ordeal  of  a  fu- 
ture state.  They,  therefore,  preferred  severe  punishments,  and, 
except  in  the  case  of  murder,  and  some  crimes  which  appeared 
highly  injurious  to  the  community,  it  was  deemed  unnecessary  to 
sacrifice  the  life  of  an  offender. 

In  military  as  well  as  civil  cases,  minor  offences  were  gener- 
ally punished  with  the  stick;  a  mode  of  chastisement  still  greatly 
in  vogue  among  the  modern  inhabitants  of  the  valley  of  the  Nile, 
and  held  in  such  esteem  by  them.,  that  convinced  of  (or  perhaps 
bv)  its  efficacy,  they  relate  "  its  descent  from  heaven  as  a  bless- 
inc^  to  mankind." 

If  an  Egyptian  of  the  present  day  has  a  government  debt  or 
tax  to  pay,  he  stoutly  persists  in  his  inability  to  obtain  the  money, 
till  he  has  withstood  a  certain  number  of  blows,  and  considers 
himself  compelled  to  produce  it;  and  the  ancient  inhabitants,  if 
not  under  the  rule  of  their  native  princes,  at  least  in  the  time  of 
the  Roman  emperors,  gloried  equally  in  the  obstinacy  they 
evinced,  and  the  difficulty  the  governors  of  the  country  experi- 
enced in  extorting  from  them  what  they  were  bound  to  pay; 
whence  Ammianus  Marcellinus  tells  us,  "  an  Eg3'ptian  blushes  if 
he  can  not  show  numerous  marks  on  his  body  that  evince  his  en- 
deavors to  evade  the  duties." 

The  bastinado  was  inflicte  J  on  both  sexes,  as  with  the  Jews. 
Men  and  boys  were  laid  prostrate  on  the  ground,  and  frequently 
held  by  the  hands  and  feet  while  the  chastisement  was  adminis- 


PUNISHMENTS. 


237 


tered;  but  women,  as  they  sat,  received  the  stripes  on  their  back, 
which  was  also  inflicted  by  the  hand  of  a  man.  Nor  was  it  un- 
usual for  the  superintendents  to  stimulate  laborers  to  their  work 
by  the  persuasive  powers  of  the  stick,  whether  engaged  in  the 
field  or  in  handicraft  employments;  and  boys  were  sometimes 
beaten  without  the  ceremony  of  prostration,  the  hands  being  tied 
behind  their  back   while  the  punishment  was  applied. 

The  character  of  some  of  the  Egyptian  laws  was  quite  con- 
sonant with  the  notions  of  a  primitive  age.  The  punishment  was 
directed  more  particularly  against  the  offending  member;  and 
adulterators  of  money,  falsifiers  of  weights  and  measures,  forgers 
of  seals  or  signatures,  and  scribes  who  altered  any  signed  docu- 
ment by  erasures  or  additions,  without  the  authority  of  the  parties, 
were  condemned  to  lose  both  their  hands. 

But  their  laws  do  not  seem  to  have  sanctioned  the  gibbet,  or 
the  exposure  of  the  body  of  an  oflender;  for  the  conduct  of 
Rhampsinitus,  in  the  case  of  the  robbery  of  his  treasure,  is  men- 
tioned bv  Herodotus  as  a  sino^ular  mode  of  discoverino:  an  ac- 
complice,  and  not  as  an  ordinary  punishment;  if,  indeed,  the 
whole  story  be  not  the  invention  of  a  Greek  cicerone. 

Thefts,  breach  of  trust,  and  petty  frauds  were  punished  with 
the  bastinado;  but  robbery  and  house-breaking  were  sometimes 
considered  capital  crimes,  and  deserving  of  death;  as  is  evident 
from  the  conduct  of  the  thief  when  caught  by  the  trap  in  the 
treasury  of  Rhampsinitus,  and  from  what  Diodorus  states  respect- 
ing Actisanes. 

This  monarch,  instead  of  putting  robbers  to  death,  instituted 
a  novel  mode  of  punishing  them,  by  cutting  oft' their  noses  and 
banishing  them  to  the  confines  of  the  desert,  where  a  town  was 
built,  called  Rhinocolura,  from  the  peculiar  nature  of  their  pun- 
ishment; and  thus,  by  removing  the  bad,  and  preventing  their 
corruptino^  the  good,  he  benefited  societ}-,  without  depriving  the 
criminals  of  life ;  at  the  same  time  that  he  punished  them  severely 


238  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

for  their  crimes,  by  obliging  them  to  Hve  by  their  labors,  and  de- 
ri\-e  a  precarious  sustenance  from  quails,  or  whatever  they  could 
catch,  in  that  barren  region.  Commutation  of  punishment  was 
the  Ibundation  of  this  part  of  tlie  con\'ict  system  of  Egypt,  and 
Rhinocolura  was  their  Norfolk  Island,  where  a  sea  of  sand  sepa- 
rated the  worst  felons  from  those  guilty  of  smaller  crimes;  who 
were  transported  to  the  mines  in  the  desert,  and  condemned  to 
work  for  \arious  terms,  according  to  their  offence. 

The  Eg\'ptians  had  a  singular  custom  respecting  theft  and 
burglary.  Those  who  followed  the  profession  of  thief  gave  in 
their  names  to  the  chief  of  the  robbers;  and  agreed  that  he 
should  be  informed  of  every  thing  they  might  thenceforward 
steal,  the  moment  it  was  in  their  possession.  In  consequence  of 
this  the  owner  of  the  lost  goods  always  applied  by  letter  to  the 
chief  for  their  recovery;  and  having  stated  their  quality  and  quan- 
titv,  the  day  and  hour  when  they  were  stolen,  and  other  requisite 
particulars,  the  goods  were  identified,  and,  on  payment  of  one 
Quarter  of  their  value,  they  were  restored  to  the  applicant  in  the 
same  state  as  when  taken  from  his  house. 

For  being  fully  persuaded  of  the  impracticability  of  putting 
an  entire  check  to  robbery,  either  by  the  dread  of  punishment, 
or  b}'  an\'  method  that  could  be  adopted  by  the  most  vigilant 
police,  they  considered  it  more  for  the  advantage  of  the  com- 
munitv  that  a  certain  sacrifice  should  be  made  in  order  to  secure 
the  restitution  of  the  remainder,  than  that  the  law,  by  taking  on 
itself  to  protect  the  citizen,  and  discover  the  offender,  should  be 
the  indirect  cause  of  greater  loss. 

And  that  tlie  Egyptians,  like  the  Indians,  and  we  may  say  the 
modern  inhabitants  of  the  Nile,  were  very  expert  in  the  art  of 
stealing,  we  have  abundant  testimony  from  ancient  authors. 

It  may  be  asked,  what  redress  could  be  obtained,  if  goods 
were  stolen  by  thieves  who  failed  to  enter  their  names  on  the 
books  of  the  chief;  but  it   is  evident  that  there  could  be  few  of 


LAWS    RESPECTING    DEBT.  2;^Q 

those  private  peculators,  since  by  their  interfering  with  the  in- 
terests of  ail  the  -profession^  the  detection  of  such  egotistical  per- 
sons would  have  been  certain;  and  thus  all  others  were  effectually 
prevented  from  robbing,  save  those  of  the  privileged  class. 

The  salary  of  the  chief  was  not  merely  derived  from  his  own 
demands  upon  the  goods  stolen,  or  from  any  voluntary  contribu- 
tion of  the  robbers  themselves,  but  was  probably  a  fixed  remuner- 
ation granted  by  the  government,  as  one  of  the  chiefs  of  the 
police;  nor  is  it  to  be  supposed  that  he  was  any  other  than  a 
respectable  citizen,  and  a  man  of  integrity  and  honor.  The  same 
may  be  said  of  the  modern  '-'•  shekh  of  the  thieves,"  at  Cairo,  where 
this  very  ancient  office  is  still  retained. 

The  great  confidence  reposed  in  the  public  weighers  ren- 
dered it  necessary  to  enact  suitable  laws  in  order  to  bind  them 
to  their  duty;  and  considering  how  much  public  property  was  at 
their  mercy,  and  how  easily  bribes  might  be  taken  from  a  dis- 
honest tradesman,  the  Egyptians  inflicted  a  severe  punishment 
as  well  on  the  weighers  as  on  the  shopkeepers,  who  were  found 
to  have  false  weights  and  measures,  or  to  have  defrauded  the 
customer  in  any  other  way;  and  these,  as  well  as  the  scribes 
who  kept  false  accounts,  were  punished  (as  before  stated)  with 
the  loss  of  both  their  hands;  on  the  principle,  says  Diodorus, 
that  the  offending  member  should  suffer;  while  the  culprit  was 
severely  punished,  that  others  might  be  deterred  from  the  com- 
mission of  a  similar  offence. 

As  in  other  countries,  their  laws  respecting  debt  and  usury 
underwent  some  changes,  according  as  society  advanced,  and  as 
pecuniary  transactions  became  more  complicated. 

Bocchoris  (who  reigned  in  Egypt  about  the  year  800  B.  C, 
and  who,  from  his  learning,  obtained  the  surname  of  Wise), 
finding  that  in  cases  of  debt  many  causes  of  dispute  had  arisen, 
and  instances  of  great  oppression  were  of  frequent  occurrence, 
enacted,  that    no    agreement   should   be  binding  unless  it  were 


240 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


acknowledged  by  a  written  contract;  and  if  any  one  took  oath 
that  the  money  had  not  been  lent  him,  that  no  debt  should  be 
recognized,  and  the  claims  of  the  suing  party  should  immediately 
cease.  This  was  done,  that  great  regard  might  always  be  had 
for  the  name  and  nature  of  an  oath,  at  the  same  time  that,  by 
substituting  the  unquestionable  proof  of  a  written  document,  the 
necessity  of  having  frequent  recourse  to  an  oath  was  avoided, 
and  its  sanctity  was  not  diminished  b}^  constant  repetition. 

Usury  was  in  all  cases  condemned  by  the  Egyptian  legisla- 
ture; and  when  money  was  borrowed,  even  with  a  written  agree- 
ment, it  was  forbidden  to  allow  the  interest  to  increase  to  more 
than  double  the  original  sum.  Nor  could  the  creditors  seize  the 
debtor's  person:  their  claims  and  right  were  confined  to  the 
goods  in  his  possession,  and  such  as  were  really  his  own;  which 
were  comprehended  under  the  produce  of  his  labor,  or  what  he 
had  received  from  another  individual  to  whom  they  lawfully 
belonged.  For  the  person  of  every  citizen  was  looked  upon  as 
the  property  of  the  state,  and  might  be  required  for  some  public 
service,  connected  either  with  war  or  peace ;  and,  independent  of 
the  injustice  of  subjecting  any  one  to  the  momentary  caprice  of 
his  creditor,  the  safety  of  the  country  might  be  endangered 
through  the  avarice  of  a  few  interested  individuals. 

This  law,  which  was  borrowed  by  Solon  from  the  Egyptian 
code,  existed  also  at  Athens;  and  was,  as  Diodorus  observes, 
much  more  consistent  with  justice  and  common  sense  than  that 
which  allowed  the  creditor  to  seize  the  person,  while  it  forbade 
him  to  take  the  plows  and  other  implements  of  industr}'.  For 
if,  continues  the  historian,  it  is  unjust  thus  to  deprive  men  of  the 
means  of  obtaining  subsistence,  and  of  providing  for  their  families, 
how  much  more  unreasonable  must  it  be  to  imprison  those  by 
whom  the  implements  were  used  ! 

To  prevent  the  accumulation  of  debt,  and  to  protect  the 
interests  of  the  creditor,  another  remarkable  law  was  enac^H  bv 


LAWS    RESPECTING    DEBT. 


241 


Asychis,  which,  while  it  shows  how  greatly  they  endeavored  to 
check  the  increasing  evil,  proves  the  high  respect  paid  by  the 
Egyptians  to  the  memory  of  their  parents,  and  to  the  sanctity  of 
their  religious  ceremonies.  By  this  it  was  pronounced  illegal  for 
any  one  to  borrow  money  without  giving  in  pledge  the  body  of 
his  father,  or  the  tomb  of  his  ancestors;  and,  if  he  failed  to  re- 
deem so  sacred  a  deposit,  he  was  considered  infamous;  and,  at 
his  death,  the  celebration  of  the  accustomed  funeral  obsequies 
was  denied  him,  and  he  could  not  enjoy  the  right  of  burial  either 
in  that  tomb  or  in  any  other  place  of  sepulture;  nor  could  he 
inter  his  children,  or  any  of  his  family,  as  long  as  the  debt  was 
unpaid,  the  creditor  being  put  in  actual  possession  of  the  family 
tomb. 

In  the  large  cities  of  Egypt,  a  fondness  for  display,  and  the 
usual  allurements  of  luxury,  were  rapidly  introduced;  and  con- 
siderable sums  were  expended  in  furnishing  houses,  and  in  many 
artificial  caprices.  Rich  jewels  and  costly  works  of  art  were  in 
great  request,  as  well  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  provincial 
capitals,  as  at  Thebes  and  iSIemphis;  they  delighted  in  splendid 
equipages,  elegant  and  commodious  boats,  numerous  attendants, 
horses,  dogs,  and  other  requisites  for  the  chase;  and,  besides, 
their  houses,  their  villas  and  their  gardens,  were  laid  out  wfth 
no  ordinary  expense.  Bui  while  the  funds  arising  from  exiensive 
farms,  and  the  abundant  produce  of  a  fertile  soil,  enabled  the 
rich  to  indulge  extravagant  habits,  many  of  the  less  wealthy 
envied  the  enjoyment  of  those  luxuries  which  fortune  had  denied 
to  them;  and,  prompted  by  vanity,  and  a  silly  desire  of  imita- 
tion, so  common  in  civilized  communities,  they  pursued  a  career 
which  speedily  led  to  the  accumulation  of  debt,  and  demanded 
the  interference  of  the  legislature;  and  it  is  probable  that  a  law, 
so  severe  as  this  must  have  appeared  to  the  Egyptians,  was  only 
adopted  as  a  measure  of  absolute  necessity,  in  order  to  put  a 
check  to  the  increasing  evil. 
16 


2^: 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


The  necessary  expenses  of  the  Egyptians  were  remarkably 
small,  less,  indeed,  than  of  any  people;  and  the  food  of  the 
poorer  classes  was  of  the  cheapest  and  most  simple  kind.  Owing 
to  the  warmth  of  the  climate,  they  required  few  clothes,  and 
young  children  were  in  the  habit  of  going  witliout  shoes,  and 
with  little  or  no  covering  to  their  bodies.  It  was,  therefore, 
luxury,  and  the  increasing  wants  of  an  artificial  kind,  which 
corrupted  the  manners  of  the  Egyptians,  and  rendered  such  a 
'aw  necessary  for  their  restraint;  and  we  may  conclude  that  it 
was  mainly  directed  against  those  who  contracted  debts  for  the 
gratification  of  pleasure,  or  with  the  premeditated  intent  of 
defrauding  an  unsuspecting  creditor 

In  the  mode  of  executing  deeds,  conveyances,  and  other 
civil  contracts,  the  Egyptians  were  peculiarly  circumstantial  and 
minute;  and  the  great  number  of  witnesses  is  a  singular  feature 
in  those  documents.  In  the  time  of  the  Ptolemies,  sales  of 
property  commenced  with  a  preamble,  containing  the  date  of  the 
king  in  whose  reign  they  were  executed ;  the  name  of  the  pres- 
ident of  the  court,  and  of  the  clerk  by  whom  they  were  written, 
being  also  specified.     The  body  of  the  contract  then  followed. 

It  stated  the  name  of  the  individual  who  sold  the  land,  the 
description  of  his  person,  an  account  of  his  parentage,  profession, 
and  place  of  abode,  the  extent  and  nature  of  the  land,  its  situa- 
tion and  boundaries,  and  concluded  with  the  name  of  the  pur- 
chaser, whose  parentage  and  description  were  also  added,  and 
the  sum  for  which  it  was  bought.  The  seller  then  vouched  for 
his  undisturbed  possession  of  it;  and,  becoming  security  against 
any  attempt  to  dispute  his  title,  the  name  of  the  other  party  was 
inserted  as  having  accepted  it,  and  acknowledged  the  purchase. 
The  names  of  witnesses  were  then  afiixed;  and,  the  president  of 
the  court  having  added  his  signature,  the  deed  was  valid.  Some- 
times the  seller  formally  recognized  the  sale  in  the  following 
manner  : 


CONTRACTS. 


243 


"All  these  things  have  I  sold  thee:  they  are  thine,  I  have 
received  their  price  from  thee,  and  will  make  no  demand  upon 
thee  for  them  from  this  day;  and  if  any  person  disturb  thee  in 
the  possession  of  them,  I  will  withstand  the  attempt ;  and,  if  I  do 
not  otherwise  repel  it,  I  will  use  compulsory  means,  or,  I 
will  indemnify  thee." 

But,  in  order  to  give  a  more  accurate  notion  of  the  form  of 
these  contracts, we  shall  introduce  a  copy  of  the  whole  of  one  of 
them,  as  given  by  Dr.  Young,  and  refer  the  reader  to  others  oc- 
curring in  the  same  work.  "  Translation  of  the  enchorial  papy- 
rus of  Paris,  containing  the  original  deed  relating  to  the  mum- 
mies:— '  This  writing  dated  in  the  year  ^6^  Athyr  20,  in  the  reig' 
of  our  sovereigns  Ptolemy  and  Cleopatra  his  sister,  the  childre 
of  Ptolemy  and  Cleopatra  the  divine,  the  gods  Illustrious:  anu 
the  priest  of  Alexander,  and  of  the  Saviour  gods,  of  the  Brother 
gods,  of  the  Beneficent  gods,  of  the  Father-loving  gods,  of  the 
Illustrious  gods,  of  the  Paternal  god,  and  of  the  Mother-loving 
gods,  being  (as  by  law  appointed) :  and  the  prize-bearer  of  Bere- 
nice the  Beneficent,  and  the  basket-bearer  of  Arsinoe  the  Brother- 
loving,  and  the  priestess  of  Arsinoe  the  Father-loving,  being  as 
appointed  in  the  metropolis  (of  Alexandria) ;  and  in  (Ptolemais) 
the  royal  city  of  the  Thebaid?  the  guardian  priest  for  the  year.^ 
of  Ptolemy  Soter,  and  the  priest  of  king  Ptolemy  the  Father- 
loving,  and  the  priest  of  Ptolemy  the  Brother-loving,  and  the 
priest  of  Ptolemy  the  Beneficent,  and  the  priest  of  Ptolemy 
the  Mother-loving;  and  the  priestess  of  queen  Cleopatra,  and 
the  priestess  of  the  princess  Cleopatra,  ,and  the  priestess  of 
Cleopatra,  the  (queen)  mother,  deceased,  the  Illustrious;  ant 
the  basket-bearer  of  Arsinoe  the  Brother-loving  (being  as  ap 
pointed):  declares:  The  Dresser?  in  the  temple  of  the  Goddess 
Onnophris,  the  son  of  Horus,  and  of  Senpoeris,  daughter  of 
Spotus?  ("aged  about  forty,  lively,")  tall  ("  of  a  sallow  com- 
plexion,  hollow-eyed,   and   bald");    in   the  temple   of  the   god- 


244 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


dess  to  (Horus)  his  brother?  the  son  of  Horus  and  of  Sen- 
poeris,  has  sold,  for  a  price  in  money,  hah'  of  one-third  of 
the  collections  for  the  dead  "  priests  of  Osiris?"  lying  in 
Thynabunum  ...  in  the  Libyan  suburbs  of  Thebes,  in  the 
Memnonia  .  .  .  likewise  half  of  one-third  of  the  liturgies:  their 
names  being,  Muthes,  the  son  of  Spotus,  with  his  children  and 
his  household;  Chapocrates,  the  son  of  Nechthmonthes,  with  his 
children  and  his  household;  Arsiesis,  the  son  of  Nechthmonthes, 
with  his  children  and  his  household;  Petemestus,  the  son  of 
Nechthmonthes;  Arsiesis,  the  son  of  Zminis,  with  his  children 
and  his  household;  Osoroeris,  the  son  of  Horus,  with  his  children 
and  his  household ;  Spotus,  the  son  of  Chapochonsis,  surnamed  ? 
Zoglyphus  (the  sculptor),  with  his  children  and  his  household  : 
while  there  belonged  also  to  Asos,  the  son  of  Horus  and  of  Sen- 
poeris,  daughter  of  Spotus?  in  the  same  manner  one-half  of  a 
third  of  the  collections  for  the  dead,  and  of  the  fruits  and  so  forth 
.  .  .  he  sold  it  on  the  20th  of  Athyr,  in  the  reign  of  the  King 
ever-living,  to  (complete)  the  third  part :  likewise  the  half  of  one- 
third  of  the  collections  relating  to  Peteutemis,  with  his  household^ 
and  .  .  .  likewise  the  half  of  one-third?  of  the  collections 
and  fruits  for  Petechonsis,  the  bearer  of  milk,  and  of  the  .  .  . 
place  on  the  Asian  side,  called  Phrecages,  and  .  .  .  the 
dead  bodies  in  it:  there  having  belonged  to  Asos,  the  son  of 
Horus,  one-half  of  the  same:  he  has  sold  to  him  in  the  month 
of  .  .  .  the  half  of  one-third  of  the  collections  for  the  priests 
of  Osiris?  lying  in  Thynabunum,  with  their  children  and  their 
households:  likewise  the  half  of  one-third  of  the  collections  for 
Peteutemis,  and  also  for  Petechonsis,  the  bearer  of  milk,  in  the 
place  Phrecages  on  the  Asian  side:  I  have  received  for  them  their 
price  in  silver  .  .  .  and  gold;  and  I  make  no  further  de- 
mand on  thee  for  them  from  the  present  day  .  .  .  before  the 
authorities  .  .  .  (and  if  any  one  shall  disturb  thee  in  the 
possession  of  them,  I  will  resist   him,  and,  if  I  do  not  succeed,  I 


CONTRACTS. 


245 


will  indemnify  thee?)  .  .  .  Executed  and  confirmed.  Writ- 
ten by  Horus,  the  son  of  Phabis,  clerk  to  the  chief  priests  of 
Amonrasonther,  and  of  the  contemplar.^  Gods,  of  the  Beneficent 
gods,  of  the  Father-loving  gods,  of  the  Paternal  god,  and  of  the 
Mother-loving  gods.     Amen. 

"  '  Names  of  the  witDcsses  present: 

Erieus,  the  son  of  Phanres  Erieus. 
Peteartres,  the  soa  of  Peteuiemis. 
Petearpocrates,  the  son  of  Horus. 
Snachomneus,  the  son  of  Peteuris. 
Snachomes,  the  son  of  Psenchonsis. 
Totoep,  the  son  of  Pliibis. 
PoRTis,  Ihe  son  of  Appollonius. 
Zminis,  the  son  of  Potemestus. 
Peteutemis,  the  son  of  Arsiesis. 
Amonorytius,  the  sou  of  Pacemis. 
Horus,  the  son  of  Chimuaraus. 
Armenis  (rather  Arbais),  the  son  of  Zlhenaetis. 
Maesis,  the  son  of  Mirsis. 
Antimaciius,  the  son  of  Antigenes. 
Petophois,  the  son  of  Phibis. 
Panas,  the  S'ln  of  Pclosiris.'  " 

In  this,  as  in  many  other  documents,  the  testimony  required 
is  very  remarkable,  sixteen  witnesses  being  thought  necessary 
for  the  sale  of  a  moiety  of  the  sums  collected  on  account  of  a  few 
tombs,  and  for  services  performed  to  the  dead,  the  total  value  of 
which  was  only  400  pieces  of  brass ;  and  the  name  of  each  person 
is  introduced,  in  the  true  Oriental  style,  with  that  of  his  father. 
Nor  is  it  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  the  same  precautions  and 
minute  formulas  were  observed  in  similar  transactions  during  the 
reigns  of  the  Pharaonic  kings,  however  great  may  have  been  the 
change  introduced  by  the  Ptolemies  and  Romans  into  the  laws 
and  local  government  of  Egypt. 

The  Egyptians  paid  great  attention  to  health,  and  "so 
wisely,"  says  Herodotus,  "was  medicine  managed  by  them,  tha^ 
no  doctor  was  permitted  to  practice  any  but  his  own  peculiar 
branch.     Some  were  oculists,  who  onlv  studied  diseases  of  the 


246  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

eye;  others  attended  solely  to  complaints  of  the  head;  others  to 
those  of  the  teeth ;  some  again  confined  themselves  to  complaints 
of  the  intestines;  and  others  to  secret  and  internal  maladies;  ac- 
coucheurs being  usually,  if  not  always,  women,"  And  it  is  a 
sino-ular  fact,  that  their  dentists  adopted  a  method,  not  very  long 
practiced  in  Europe,  of  stopping  teeth  with  gold,  proofs  of  which 
have  been  obtained  from  some  mummies  of  Thebes. 

They  received  certain  salaries  from  the  public  treasury;  and 
after  they  had  studied  those  precepts  which  had  been  laid  down 
from  the  experience  of  their  predecessors,  they  were  permitted  to 
practice;  and,  in  order  to  prevent  dangerous  experiments  being 
made  upon  patients,  they  might  be  punished  if  their  treatment 
was  contrary  to  the  established  system;  and  the  death  of  a  per- 
son entrusted  to  their  care,  under  such  circumstances,  was  ad- 
judged to  them  as  a  capital  offence. 

If,  however,  every  remedy  had  been  administered  according 
to  the  sanitary  law,  they  were  absolved  from  blame;  and  if  the 
patient  was  not  better,  the  physician  was  allowed  to  alter  the 
treatment  after  the  third  day,  or  even  before,  if  he  took  upon 
himself  the  responsibility. 

Though  paid  by  Government  as  a  body,  it  was  not  illegal  to 
receive  fees  for  their  advice  and  attendance;  and  demands  could 
be  made  in  every  instance  except  on  a  foreign  journey,  and  on 
militar}-  service;  when  patients  were  visited  free  of  expense. 

The  pii.:jipal  mc  de  adopted  by  the  Egyptians  for  preventing 
illness  v.as  attention  to  regimen  and  diet;  "  being  persuaded  that 
the  majority  of  diseases  proceed  from  indigestion  and  excess  of 
eating;"  and  they  had  frequent  recourse  to  abstinence,  emetics^ 
slight  doses  of  medicine,  and  other  simple  means  of  relieving  the 
system,  which  some  persons  were  in  the  habit  of  repeating  every 
two  or  three  days. 

"  Those  who  lived  in  the  corn  countr}/,"  as  Herodotus  terms 
it,  were  particular  for  their  attention  to   health.     "  During  three 


".'4EeXll>?AM'LllI 

P  FERRE^lICEfilT^P-CAEliYS' T  F 


WREATH  OF  OAK.     {Life  Saving.) 


347 


248 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


successive  days,  every  month,  they  submitted  to  a  regular  course 
of  treatment;  from  the  conviction  that  illness  was  wont  to  pro- 
ceed from  some  irregularity  in  diet;"  and  if  preventives  were 
inetTectual  they  had  recourse  to  suitable  remedies,  adopting  a 
mode  of  treatment  very  similar  to  that  mentioned  by  Diodorus. 

The  employment  of  numerous  drugs  in  Egypt  has  been  men- 
tioned by  sacred  and  profane  writers;  and  the  medicinal  proper- 
ties of  many  herbs  which  grow  in  the  deserts,  particularly 
between  the  Nile  and  Red  Sea,  are  still  known  to  the  Arabs; 
though  their  application  has  been  but  imperfectly  recorded  and 
preserved. 

"O  virgin,  daughter  of  Egypt,"  says  Jeremiah,  ''in  vain 
shalt  thou  use  many  medicines,  for  thou  shalt  not  be  cured;"  and 
Homer,  in  the  Odyssey,  describes  the  many  valuable  medicines 
given  by  Polydamna,  the  wife  of  Thonis,  to  Helen  while  in 
Egypt,  "  a  country  whose  fertile  soil  produces  an  infinity  of  drugs, 
some  salutary  and  some  pernicious;  where  each  physician  pos- 
sesses knowledge  above  all  other  men." 

Pliny  makes  frequent  mention  of  the  productions  of  that 
country,  and  their  use  in  medicine;  he  also  notices  the  physicians 
of  Egypt;  and  as  if  their  number  were  indicative  of  the  many 
maladies  to  which  the  inhabitants  were  subject,  he  observes,  that 
it  was  a  country  productive  of  numerous  diseases.  Li  this,  how- 
ever, he  does  not  agree  with  Herodotus,  who  afBrms  that,  "  after 
the  Libyans,  there  are  no  people  so  healthy  as  the  Egyptians, 
which  may  be  attributed  to  the  invariable  nature  of  the  seasons 
in  their  country." 

Pliny  even  says  that  the  Egyptians  examined  the  bodies  after 
death,  to  ascertain  the  nature  of  the  diseases  of  which  they  had 
died;  and  we  can  readily  believe  that  a  people  so  far  advanced 
in  civilization  and  the  principles  of  medicine  as  to  assign  to  each 
physician  his  peculiar  branch,  would  have  resorted  to  this  effec- 
tual method  of  acquiring  knowledge  and  experience. 


SUPERSTITION, 


249 


It  is  evident  that  the  medical  science  of  the  Egyptians  was 
sought  and  appreciated  even  in  foreign  countries;  and  we  learn 
from  Herodotus,  that  Cyrus  and  Darius  both  sent  to  Egypt  for 
medical  men.  In  later  times,  too,  they  continued  to  be  cele- 
brated for  their  skill;  Ammianus  says  it  was  enough  for  a  doc- 
tor to  say  he  had  studied  in  Egypt  to  recommend  him ;  and  Pliny 
mentions  medical  men  going  from  Egypt  to  Rome.  But  though 
their  physicians  are  often  noticed  by  ancient  writers,  the  only  in- 
dication of  medical  attendance  appears  to  be  in  the  paintings  of 
Beni  Hassan ;  and  even  there  it  is  uncertain  whether  a  doctor,  or 
a  barber,  be  represented. 

Their  doctors  probably  felt  the  pulse;  as  Plutarch  shows 
they  did  at  Rome,  from  this  saying  of  Tiberius,  "  a  man  after  he 
has  passed  his  thirtieth  year,  who  puts  forth  his  hand  to  a  physi- 
cian, is  ridiculous;"  whence  our  proverb  of  "  a  fool  or  a  physician 
after  forty." 

Diodorus  tells  us,  that  dreams  were  regarded  in  Egypt  with 
religious  reverence,  and  the  prayers  of  the  devout  were  often  re- 
warded by  the  gods,  with  an  indication  of  the  remedy  their 
sufferings  required;  and  magic,  charms,  and  various  supernatural 
agencies,  were  often  resorted  to  by  the  credulous;  who  "sought 
to  the  idols,  and  to  the  charmers,  and  to  them  that  had  famiUar 
spirits,  and  to  the  wizards." 

Origen  also  says,  that  when  any  part  of  the  body  was  afflicted 
with  disease,  they  invoked  the  demon  to  whom  it  was  supposed 
to  belong,  in  order  to  obtain  a  cure. 

In  cases  of  great  moment  oracles  were  consulted;  and  a 
■Greek  papyrus  found  in  Egypt  mentions  divination  "  through  a 
boy  with  a  lamp,  a  bowl,  and  a  pit;"  which  resembles  the  pre- 
tended .power  of  the  modern  magicians  of  Egypt.  The  same  also 
notices  the  mode  of  discovering  theft,  and  obtaining  any  wish  ; 
and  though  it  is  supposed  to  be  of  the  2d  century,  the  practices  it 
alludes  to  are  doubtless  from  an  old  Egyptian  source;  and  other 


250 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


similar  papyri  contain  recipes  for  obtaining  good  fortune  and  vari- 
ous benefits,  or  for  causing  misfortunes  to  an  enemy. 

Some  suppose  the  Egyptians  had  even  recourse  to  animal 
magnetism,  and  that  dreams  indicating  cures  were  the  result  of 
this  influence;  and  (though  the  subjects  erroneously  supposed  to 
represent  it  apply  to  a  very  different  act)  it  is  not  impossible  that 
they  may  have  discovered  the  mode  of  exercising  this  art,  and 
that  it  may  have  been  connected  with  the  strange  scenes  recorded 
at  the  initiation  into  the  m37steries.  If  really  known,  such  a 
power  would  scarcely  have  been  neglected;  and  it  would  have 
been  easy  to  obtain  thereby  an  ascendency  over  the  minds  of  a 
superstitious  people. 

Indeed,  the  readiness  of  man  at  all  times  to  astonish  on  the 
one  hand,  and  to  court  the  marvelous  on  the  other,  is  abundantly 
proved  by  present  and  past  experience.  That  the  nervous  system 
may  be  worked  upon  by  it  to  such  a  degree  that  a  state  either 
of  extreme  irritability,  or  of  sleep  and  coma,  may  be  induced,  in 
the  latter  case  paralyzing  the  senses  so  as  to  become  deadened  to- 
pain,  is  certain;  and  a  highly  sensitive  temperament  may  exhibit 
phenomena  beyond  the  reach  of  explanation ;  but  it  requires  very 
little  experience  to  know  that  v/e  are  wonderfully  affected  by  far 
more  ordinary  causes;  for  the  nerves  may  be  acted  upon  to  such 
an  extent  by  having  as  we  commonly  term  it  "  our  teeth  set 
on  edge,"  that  the  mere  filing  a  saw  would  suffice  to  drive 
any  one  mad,  if  unable  to  escape  from  its  unceasing  discord. 
What  is  this  but  an  effect  upon  the  nerves  ?  and  what  more 
could  be  desired  to  prove  the  power  of  any  agency.^  And  the 
world  would  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  the  professors  of  ani- 
mal magnetism,  if,  instead  of  making  it,  as  some  do,  a  mere  ex- 
hibition to  display  a  power,  and  astonish  the  beholders,  they  would 
continue  the  efforts  already  begun,  for  discovering  all  the  bene- 
ficial uses  to  which  it  is  capable  of  being  applied. 

We  might  then  rejoice  that,  as  astrology  led  to  the  more 


CURE    OF    DISEASES. 


251 


useful  knowledge  of  astronomy,  this  influence  enabled  us  to  com- 
prehend our  nervous  system,  on  which  so  man}^  conditions  of 
health  depend,  and  with  which  we  are  so  imperfectly  acquainted. 

The  cure  of  diseases  was  also  attributed  by  the  Egyptians 
to  Exvotos  offered  in  the  temples.  They  consisted  of  various 
kinds.  Some  persons  promised  a  certain  sum  for  the  maintenance 
of  the  sacred  animals;  or  whatever  might  propitiate  the  deity; 
and  after  the  cure  had  been  effected,  they  frequently  suspended  a 
model  of  the  restored  part  in  the  temple;  and  ears,  eyes,  dis- 
torted arms,  and  other  members,  were  dedicated  as  memorials  of 
their  gratitude  and  superstition. 

Sometimes  travelers,  who  happened  to  pass  by  a  temple,  in- 
scribed a  votive  sentence  on  the  walls,  to  indicate  their  respect 
for  the  deity,  and  solicit  his  protection  during  their  journey;  the 
complete  formula  of  which  contained  the  adoration  of  the  writer, 
with  the  assurance  that  he  had  been  mindful  of  his  wife,  his  fam- 
ily, and  friends;  and  the  reader  of  the  inscription  was  sometimes 
included  in  a  share  of  the  blessings  it  solicited.  The  date  of  the 
king's  reign  and  the  day  of  the  month  were  also  added,  with  the 
profession  and  parentage  of  the  writer.  The  complete  formula 
of  one  adoration  was  as  follows: 

"  The  adoration  of  Caius  Capitolinus,  son  of  Flavins  Julius, 
of  the  fifth  troop  of  Theban  horse,  to  the  goddess  Isis,  with  ten 
thousand  names.  And  I  have  been  mindful  of  (or  have  made  an 
adoration  for)  all  those  who  love  me,  and  my  consort,  and  chil- 
dren, and  all  my  household,  and  for  him  who  reads  this.  In  the 
year  12  of  the  emperor  Tiberius  Caesar,  the  15  of  Pauni." 

The  Egyptians,  according  to  Pliny,  claimed  the  honor  of 
having  invented  the  art  of  curing  diseases.  Indeed,  the  study  of 
medicine  and  surgery  appears  to  hi,ve  commenced  at  a  very  early 
period  in  Egypt,  since  Athothes,  the  second  king  of  the  country, 
is  stated  to  have  written  upon  the  subject  of  anatomy;  and  the 
schools   of  Alexandria  continued  till   a   late  period  to  enjoy  the 


252 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


reputation,  and  display  the  skill,  they  had  inherited  from  their 
predecessors.  Hermes  was  said  to  have  written  six  books  on 
medicine,  the  first  of  which  related  to  anatomy;  and  the  various 
recipes,  known  to  have  been  beneticial,  were  recorded,  with  their 
peculiar  cases,  in  the  memoirs  of  physic  inscribed  among  the 
laws  deposited  in  the  principal  temples. 


'(^ 


The  monumental  records  and  various  works  of  art,  and,  above 
all,  the  v/ritings,  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  have  made  us  ac- 
quainted with  their  customs  and  their  very  thoughts ;  and  though 
the  literature  of  the  Egyptians  is  almost  unknown,  their  monu- 
ments, especially  the  paintings  in  the  tombs,  have  afforded  us  an 
insicjht  into  their  mode  of  life  scarcely  to  be  obtained  from  those 
of  any  other  people.  The  influence  that  Egypt  had  in  early  times 
on  Greece  gives  to  every  inquiry  respecting  it  an  additional 
interest;  and  the  frequent  mention  of  the  Egyptians  in  the  Bible 
connects  them  with  the  Hebrew  Records,  of  which  many  satis- 
factory illustrations  occur  in  the  sculptures  of  Pharaonic  times. 
Their  great  antiquity  also  enables  us  to  understand  the  condition 
of  the  world  long  before  the  era  of  written  history;  all  existing 
monuments  left  by  other  people  are  comparatively  modern;  and 
the  paintings  in  Egypt  are  the  earliest  descriptive  illustrations  of 
the  manners  and  customs  of  any  nation. 

It  is  from  these  that  we  are  enabled  to  form  an  opinion  of 
the  character  of  the  Egyptians.  They  have  been  pronounced  a 
serious,  gloomy  people,  saddened  by  the  habit  of  abtruse  specu- 
lation; but  how  far  this  conclusion  agrees  with  fact  will  be 
seen  in  the  sequel.  They  were,  no  doubt,  less  lively  than  the 
Greeks;  but  if  a  comparatively  late  writer,  Ammianus  Marcel- 

253 


254 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


linus,  may  have  remarked  a  "  rather  sad  "  expression,  after  they 
had  been  tor  ages  under  successive  foreign  yokes,  this  can  scarcely 
be  admitted  as  a  testimony  of  their  character  in  the  early  times 
of  their  prosperity;  and  though  a  sadness  of  expression  might  be 
observed  in  the  present  oppressed  population,  chey  can  not  be 
considered  a  grave  or  melancholy  people.  Much,  indeed,  may 
be  learned  from  the  character  of  the  modern  Egyptians ;  and  not- 
withstanding the  infusion  of  foreign  blood,  particularly  of  the 
Arab  invaders,  every  one  rnust  perceive  the  strong  resemblance 
they  bear  to  their  ancient  predecessors.  It  is  a  common  error  to 
suppose  that  the  conquest  of  a  country  gives  an  entirely  new 
character  to  the  inhabitants.  The  immigration  of  a  whole  nation 
taking  possession  of  a  thinly-peopled  country,  will  have  this 
effect,  when  the  original  inhabitants  are  nearly  all  driven  out  by 
the  new-comers;  but  immigration  has  not  always,  and  conquest 
ne\'cr  has,  for  its  object  the  destruction  or  expulsion  of  the  native 
population;  they  are  found  useful  to  the  victors,  and  as  necessary 
for  them  as  the  cattle  or  the  productions  of  the  soil.  Invaders 
are  always  numerically  inferior  to  the  conquered  nation — even  to 
the  male  population;  and,  when  the  women  are  added  to  the 
number,  the  majority  is  greatly  in  favor  of  the  original  race, 
and  they  must  exercise  immense  influence  on  the  character  of 
the  rising  generation.  The  customs,  too,  of  the  old  inhabitants 
are  very  readily  adopted  by  the  new-comers,  especially  when 
they  are  found  to  suit  the  climate  and  the  peculiarities  of  the 
country  they  have  been  formed  in;  and  the  habits  of  a  small  mass 
of  settlers  living  in  contact  with  them  fade  away  more  and  more 
with  each  successive  generation.  So  it  has  been  in  Egypt ;  and, 
as  usual,  the  conquered  people  bear  the  stamp  of  the  ancient  in- 
habitants rather  than  that  of  the  Arab  conquerors 

Of  the  various  institutions  of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  none  are 
more  interesting  than  those  which  relate  to  their  social  life;  and 
when  we  consider  the  condition  of  other  countries  in  the  early 


CHARACTER    OF    THE    PEOPLE. 


255 


ages  when  they  flourished,  from  the  loth  to  the  20th  century 
before  our  era,  we  may  look  with  respect  on  the  advancement 
they  had  then  made  in  civiHzation,  and  acknowledge  the  benefits 
they  conferred  upon  mankind  during  their  career.  For  like  other 
people,  they  have  had  their  part  in  the  great  scheme  of  the  workPij 
development,  and  their  share  of  usefulness  in  the  destined  pro- 
gress of  the  human  race ;  for  countries,  like  individuals,  have  cer- 
tain qualities  given  them,  which,  differing  from  those  of  their  pre- 
decessors and  contemporaries  are  intended  in  due  season  to  per- 
form their  requisite  duties.  The  interest  felt  in  the  Egyptians  is 
from  their  having  led  the  way,  or  having  been  the  first  people  we 
know  of  who  made  any  great  progress,  in  the  arts  and  manners 
of  civilization;  which,  for  the  period  when  they  lived,  was  very 
creditable,  and  far  beyond  that  of  other  kingdoms  of  the  world. 
Nor  can  we  fail  to  remark  the  difference  between  them  and  their 
Asiatic  rivals,  the  Assyrians,  who,  even  at  a  much  later  period, 
had  the  great  defects  of  Asiatic  cruelty — flaying  alive,  impaling, 
and  torturing  their  prisoners,  as  the  Persians,  Turks,  and  other 
Orientals  have  done  to  the  present  century,  the  reproach  of 
which  can  not  be  extended  to  the  ancient  Egyptians.  Being  the 
dominant  race  of  that  age,  they  necessarilv  had  an  influence  on 
others  with  whom  they  came  in  contact ;  and  it  is  by  these  means 
that  civilization  is  advanced  through  its  various  stages ;  each  peo- 
ple striving  to  improve  on  the  lessons  derived  from  a  neighbor 
whose  institutions  they  appreciate,  or  consider  beneficial  to  them- 
selves. It  was  thus  that  the  active  mind  of  the  talented  Greeks 
sought  and  improved  on  the  lessons  derived  from  other  countries, 
especially  from  Egypt;  and  though  the  latter,  at  the  late  period 
of  the  7th  century  B.  C,  had  lost  its  greatness  and  the  prestige 
of  superiority  among  the  nations  of  the  world,  it  was  still  the 
seat  of  learning  and  the  resort  of  studious  philosophers;  and  the 
abuses  consequent  on  the  fall  of  an  empire  had  not  yet  brought 
about  the  demoralization  of  after  times. 


256  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

The  early  part  of  Egyptian  monumental  history  is  coeval  with 
the  arrivals  of  Abraham  and  of  Joseph,  and  the  Exodus  of  the 
Israelites;  and  we  know  from  the  Bible  what  was  the  state  of  the 
world  at  that  time.  But  then,  and  apparently  long  before,  the 
habits  of  social  life  in  Egypt  were  already  what  we  find  them  to 
have  been  during  the  most  glorious  period  of  their  career;  and 
as  the  people  had  already  laid  aside  their  arms,  and  military  men 
only  carried  them  when  on  service,  some  notion  may  be  had  of 
the  very  remote  date  of  Eg3^ptian  civilization.  In  the  treatment 
of  women  they  seem  to  have  been  very  far  advanced  beyond 
other  wealthy  communities  of  the  same  era,  having  usages  very 
similar  to  those  of  the  mxodern  world;  and  such  was  the  respect 
shown  to  women  that  precedence  was  given  to  them  over  men, 
and  the  wives  and  daughters  of  kings  succeeded  to  the  throne 
like  the  male  branches  of  the  royal  family  Nor  was  this  privi- 
lege rescinded,  even  though  it  had  more  than  once  entailed  upon 
them  the  trouble  of  a  contested  succession;  foreign  kings  often 
haxinff  claimed  a  ris^ht  to  the  throne  throuoh  marriao;e  with  an 
Eg3'ptian  princess.  It  was  not  a  mere  influence  that  they  pos- 
sessed, which  women  often  acquire  in  the  most  arbitrary  Eastern 
communities;  nor  a  political  importance  accorded  to  a  particular 
individual,  like  that  of  the  Sultana  Valideh,  the  Queen  Mother, 
at  Constantinople;  it  was  a  right  acknowledged  by  law,  both  in 
private  and  public  life.  They  knew  that  unless  women  were 
treated  with  respect,  and  made  to  exercise  an  influence  over 
society,  the  standard  of  public  opinion  would  soon  be  lowered, 
and  the  manners  and  morals  of  men  would  suffer;  and  in  acknowl 
edging  this,  they  pointed  out  to  women  the  very  responsible 
duties  they  had  to  perform  to  the  riommunity. 

From  their  private  life  great  insight  is  obtained  into  their 
character  and  customs;  and  their  household  arrangements,  the 
style  of  their  dwellings,  their  amusements  and  their  occupations, 
explain  their   habits;  as  their   institutions,  mode  of  government,. 


CONSTRUCTION    OF    HOUSES. 


257 


arts  and  military  knowledge  illustrate  ^heir  history,  and  their 
relative  positions  among  the  nations  of  i.  u  nr  u.ty.  In  their  form 
and  arrangement,  the  houses  were  made  to  suit  the  climate, 
modified  according  to  their  advancement  in  civilization;  and  we 
are  often  enabled  to  trace  in  their  abodes  some  of  the  primitive 
habits  of  a  people,  long  after  they  have  been  settled  in  towns, 
and  have  adopted  the  manners  of  wealthy  communities;  as  the 
tent  may  still  be  traced  in  the  houses  of  the  Turks,  and  the  small 
original  wooden  chamber  in  the  mansions  and  temples  of  ancient 
Greece. 

As  in  all  warm  climates,  the  poorer  classes  of  Egyptians  lived 
much  in  the  open  air ;  and  the  houses  of  the  rich  were  constructed 
to  be  cool  throughout  the  summer;  currents  of  refreshing  air 
being  made  to  circulate  freely  through  them  by  the  judicious 
arrangement  of  the  passages  and  courts.  Corridors,  supported 
on  columns,  gave  access  to  the  different  apartments  through  a 
succession  of  shady  avenues  and  areas,  with  one  side  open  to  the 
air,  as  in  cloisters;  and  even  small  detached  houses  had  an  open 
court  in  the  centre,  planted  as  a  garden  with  palms  and  other 
trees.  Midkufs^  or  wooden  wind-sails,  were  also  fixed  over  the 
terraces  of  the  upper  stor}^,  facing  the  prevalent  and  cool  N.  W. 
wind,  which  was  conducted  down  their  sloping  boards  into  the 
interior  of  the  house.  They  were  exactly  similar  to  those  in  the 
modern  houses  of  Cairo;  and  some  few  were  double,  facing  in 
opposite  directions. 

The  houses  were  built  of  crude  brick,  stuccoed  and  painted, 
with  all  the  combinations  of  bright  color  in  which  the  Egyptians 
delighted;  and  a  highly  decorated  mansion  had  numerous  courts, 
and  architectural  details  derived  from  the  temples.  Over  the 
door  was  sometimes  a  sentence,  as  "the  good  house;""  or  the  name 
of  a  king,  under  whom  the  owner  probably  held  some  office ;  many 
other  symbols  of  good  omen  were  also  put  up,  as  at  the  entrances 
of  modern  Egyptian  houses;  and  a  visit  to  some  temple  gave  as 

17 


258  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

good  a  claim  to  a  record   as  the  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  at  the 
present  da3\     Poor  people  were  satisfied  with  very  simple   tene- 
ments; their  wants  being  easily  supplied,  both  as  to  lodging  and 
food;  and  their  house  consisted  of  four  walls,  with  a  flat  roof  of 
palm-branches  laid  across  a  split  date-tree  as  a  beam,  and  cov- 
ered with  mats  plastered  over  with  a  thick  coating  of  mud.     It 
had  one  door  and  a  few  small  windows  closed   by  wooden  shut- 
ters.    As  it  scarcely  ever  rained,  the  mud  roof  was  not  washed 
into  the  sitting  room;  and  this  cottage  rather  answered  as  a  shel- 
ter from  the  sun,  and  as  a  closet  for  their  goods,  than  for  the  or- 
dinary purpose  of  a  house  in   other  countries.     Indeed   at   night 
the  owners  slept  on  the  roof,  during  the  greater  part  of  the  year; 
and  as  most  of  their  work  was  done  out  of  doors,  they  might 
easily  be  persuaded  that  a  house  was  far  less  necessar}'  for  them 
than  a   tomb.     To  convince  the  rich  of  this  ultra-philosophical 
sentiment  was  not  so  easy;  at  least  the  practice  differed  from  the 
theor}^ ;  and  though  it  was  promulgated  among  all  the  Egyptians, 
it  did  not  prevent  the  priests  and  other  grandees   from  living  in 
very  luxurious  abodes,  or  enjoying  the  good  things  of  this  world; 
and  a  display  of  wealth  was  found  to  be   useful   in  maintaining 
their  power,  and  in  securing  the  obedience  of  a  credulous  people. 
The  worldly  possessions  of  the  priests  were  therefore  ver}^  exten- 
sive, and  if  they  imposed  on  themselves  occasional  habits  of  abste- 
miousness, avoided  certain  kinds  of  unwholesome  food,  and  per- 
formed many  mysterious  observances,  they  were  amply  repaid  by 
the   improvement    of   their    health,   and   by  the   influence   they 
thereby    acquired.     Superior   intelligence  enabled  them  to    put 
their  own  construction  on  regulations  emanating  from  their  sacred 
body,  with  the  convenient  persuasion  that  what  suited  them  did 
not  suit  others;  and  the  profane  vulgar  were  expected  to  do,  not 
as  the  priests  did,  but  as  they  taught  them  to  do. 

In  their  plans   the   houses   of  towns,  like  the   villas   in   the 
country,  varied  according  to  the   caprice  of  tlie  builders.     The 


ground-plan,  in  some  of  the  former,  consisted  of  a  number  of 
chambers  on  three  sides  of  a  court,  which  was  often  planted  with 
trees.  Others  consisted  of  two  rows  of  rooms  on  either  side  of 
a  long  passage,  with  an  entrance-court  from  the  street ;  and  others 
were  laid  out  in  chambers  round  a  central  area,  similar  to  the 
Roman  Im-pluvuun^  and  paved  with  stone,  or  containing  a  few 
trees,  a  tank  or  a  fountain  in  its  centre.  Sometimes,  though 
rarely,  a  flight  of  steps  led  to  the  front  door  from  the  street. 

Houses  of  small  size  were  often  connected  together  and  formed 
the  continuous  sides  of  streets;  and  a  court-yard  was  common  to 
several  dwellings.  Others  of  a  humbler  kind  consisted  merely 
of  rooms  opening  on  a  narrow  passage,  or  directly  on  the  street. 
These  had  only  a  basement  story,  or  ground-floor;  and  few  houses 
exceeded  two  stories  above  it.  They  mostly  consisted  of  one 
upper  floor;  and  though  Diodorus  speaks  of  the  lofty  houses  in 
Thebes  four  and  five  stories  high,  the  paintings  show  that  few  had 
three,  and  the  largest  seldom  four,  including,  as  he  does,  the  base- 
ment-story. Even  the  greater  portion  of  the  house  was  confined 
to  a  first  floor,  with  an  additional  story  in  one  part,  on  which  was 
a  terrace  covered  by  an  awning,  or  a  light  roof  supported  on  col- 
umns. This  served  for  the  ladies  of  the  family  to  sit  at  work  in 
during  the  day,  and  here  the  master  of  the  house  often  slept  at 
nisfht  durinof  the  summer,  or  took  his  siesta  in  the  afternoon. 
Some  had  a  tower  which  rose  even  above  the  terrace. 

The  first-floor  was  what  the  Italians  call  the  '■'•  -pimio  nohile;'''* 
the  ground  rooms  being  chiefly  used  for  stores,  or  as  offices,  of 
which  one  was  set  apart  for  the  porter,  and  another  for  visitors 
coming  on  business.  Sometimes  besides  the  parlor  were  receiv- 
ing apartments  on  the  basement-story,  but  guests  were  generally 
entertained  on  the  first-floor ;  and  on  this  were  the  sleeping-rooms 
also,  except  where  the  house  was  of  two  or  three  stories.  The 
houses  of  wealthy  citizens  often  covered  a  considerable  space,  and 
cither  stood  directly  upon  the  street,  or  a  short  way  back,  within 


26o  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

an  open  court;  and  some  large  mansions  were  detached,  and  had 
several  entrances  on  two  or  three  sides.  Before  the  door  was  a 
porch  supported  on  two  columns,  decked  with  banners  or  ribbons, 
and  larger  porticoes  had  a  double  row  of  columns,  with  statues 
between  them. 

Li  the  distribution  of  the  apartments  numerous  and  different 
modes  were  adopted,  according  to  circumstances;  in  general, 
however,  the  large  mansions  seem  to  have  consisted  of  a  court 
and  several  corridors,  with  rooms  leading  from  them,  not  unlike 
many  of  those  now  built  in  Oriental  and  tropical  countries.  The 
houses  in  most  of  the  Egyptian  towns  are  quite  destroyed,  leav- 
ing few  traces  of  their  plans,  or  even  of  their  sites;  but  sufficient 
remains  of  some  at  Thebes,  at  Tel  el  Amarna,  and  other  places, 
to  enable  us,  with  the  help  of  the  sculptures,  to  ascertain  their 
form  and  appearance. 

Granaries  were  also  laid  out  in  a  very  regular  manner,  and 
varied  of  course  in  plan  as  much  as  the  houses,  to  which  there  is 
reason  to  believe  they  were  frequently  attached,  even  in  the 
towns;  and  they  were  sometimes  only  separated  from  the  house 
by  an  avenue  of  trees. 

Some  small  houses  consisted  merely  of  a  court,  and  three  or 
four  store-rooms  on  the  ground-floor,  with  a  single  chamber 
above,  to  which  a  flight  of  steps  led  from  the  court;  but  they 
were  probably  only  met  with  in  the  country,  and  resembled  some 
still  found  in  the  fellah  villages  of  modern  Egypt.  Very  similar 
to  these  was  the  model  of  a  house  now  in  the  British  Museum, 
which  solely  consisted  of  a  court-yard  and  three  small  store-rooms 
on  the  ground-floor,  with  a  staircase  leading  to  a  room  belonging 
to  the  storekeeper,  which  was  furnished  with  a  narrow  window 
or  aperture  opposite  the  door,  rather  intended  for  the  purposes  of 
ventilation  than  to  admit  the  light.  In  the  court  a  woman  was 
represented  making  bread,  as  is  sometimes  done  at  the  present 
day  in  Egypt,  in  the  open  air;  and  the  store-rooms  were  full  of 
grain. 


CONSTRUCTION    OF    HOUSES.  26 1 

Other  small  houses  in  towns  consisted  of  two  or  three  stories 
above  the  ground-floor.  They  had  no  court,  and  stood  close  to- 
gether, covering  a  small  space,  and  high  in  proportion  to  their 
base,  like  many  of  those  at  Karnak.  The  lower  part  had  merely 
the  door  of  entrance  and  some  store-rooms,  over  which  were  a 
first  and  second  floor,  each  with  three  windows  on  the  front  and 
side,  and  above  these  an  attic  without  windows,  and  a  staircase 
leading  to  a  terrace  on  the  flat  roof  The  floors  were  laid  on 
rafters,  the  end  of  which  projected  slightly  from  the  walls  like 
dentils;  and  the  courses  of  brick  were  in  waving  or  concave  lines, 
as  in  the  walls  of  an  enclosure  at  Da3^r  el  Medeeneh  in  Thebes. 
The  windows  of  the  first-floor  had  a  sort  of  mullion  dividinsr 
them  into  two  lights  each,  with  a  transom  above;  and  the  upper 
windows  were  filled  with  trellis-work,  or  cross  bars  of  wood,  as 
in  man;^  Turkish  harems.  A  model  of  a  house  of  this  kind  is 
also  in  the  British  Museum.  But  the  generality  of  Egyptian 
houses  were  far  less  regular  in  their  plan  and  elevation;  and  the 
usual  disregard  for  symmetry  is  generally  observable  in  the  houses 
even  of  towns. 

The  doors,  both  of  the  entrances  and  of  the  inner  apartments, 
were  frequently  stained  to  imitate  foreign  and  rare  woods.  They 
were  either  of  one  or  two  valves,  turning  on  pins  of  metal,  and 
were  secured  within  by  a  bar  or  bolts.  Some  of  these  bronze 
pins  have  been  discovered  in  the  tombs  of  Thebes.  They  were 
fastened  to  the  wood  with  nails  of  the  same  metal,  whose  round 
heads  served  also  as  an  ornament,  and  the  upper  one  had  a  pro- 
jection at  the  back,  in  order  to  prevent  the  door  striking  against 
the  wall.  We  also  find  in  the  stone  lintels  and  floor,  behind  the 
thresholds  of  the  tombs  and  temples,  the  holes  in  which  they 
turned,  as  well  as  those  of  the  bolts  and  bars,  and  the  recess  for 
receiving  the  opened  valves.  The  folding  doors  had  bolts  in  the 
centre,  sometimes  above  as  well  as  below;  a  bar  was  placed 
across  from  one  wall  to  the  other ;  and  in  many  instances  wooden 


262  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

locks  secured  them  by  passing  over  the  centre,  at  the  junction  of 
the  two  folds.  For  greater  security  they  were  occasionally  sealed 
with  a  mass  of  clay,  as  is  proved  by  some  tombs  found  closed  at 
Thebes,  by  the  sculptures,  and  in  the  account  given  by  Herodo- 
tus of  Rhampsinitus'  treasury. 

Keys  were  made  of  bronze  or  iron,  and  consisted  of  a  long 
straityht  shank,  about  five  inches  in  length,  with  three  or  more 
projecting  teeth;  others  had  a  nearer  resemblance  to  the  wards 
of  modern  keys,  with  a  short  shank  about  an  inch  long;  and  some 
resembled  a  common  ring  with  the  wards  at  its  back.  These  are 
probably  of  Roman  date.  The  earliest  mention  of  a  key  is  in 
Judges  (iii.  23-25),  when  Ehud  having  gone  "  through  the  porch, 
and  shut  the  doors  of  the  parlor  upon  him  and  locked  them," 
Eglon's  "  servants  took  a  key  and  opened  them." 

The  doorways,  like  those  in  the  temples,  w^ere  often  sur- 
mounted by  the  Egyptian  cornice;  others  w^ere  variously  deco- 
rated, and  some,  represented  in  the  tombs,  were  surrounded  with 
a  variety  of  ornaments,  as  usual  richly  painted.  These  last, 
though  sometimes  found  at  Thebes,  were  more  general  about 
Memphis  and  the  Delta;  and  two  good  instr.nces  of  them  are  pre- 
served at  the  Briti^^h  Museum,  brought  from  a  tomb  near  the 
Pyramids. 

Even  at  the  early  period  when  the  Pyramids  were  built,  the 
doors  w^ere  of  one  or  two  valves :  and  both  those  of  the  rooms  and 
the  entrance  doors  opened  inwards,  contrary  to  the  custom  of  the 
Greeks,  who  were  consequentl}^  obliged  to  strike  on  the  inside  of  the 
street  door  before  they  opened  it,  in  order  to  warn  persons  pass- 
ing by;  and  the  Romans  were  forbidden  to  make  it  open  outward 
without  a  special  permission. 

The  floors  were  of  stone,  or  a  composition  made  of  lime  or 
other  materials;  but  in  humbler  abodes  they  were  formed  of 
split  date-tree  beams,  arranged  close  together  or  at  intervals, 
with  planks  or   transverse  layers  of  palm  branches  over  them, 


CONSTRUCTION    OF    HOUSES. 


263 


covered  with  mats  and  a  coating  of  mud.  Many  roofs  were 
vaulted,  and  built  like  the  rest  of  the  house  of  crude  brick ;  and 
not  only  have  arches  been  found  of  that  material  dating  in  the 
1 6th  century  before  our  era,  but  vaulted  granaries  appear  to  be 
represented  of  much  earlier  date.  Bricks,  indeed,  led  to  the  in- 
vention of  the  arch ;  the  want  of  timber  in  Egypt  having  pointed 
out  the  necessity  of  some  substitute  for  it. 

Wood  was  imported  in  great  quantities;  deal  and  cedar 
were  brought  from  Syria;  and  rare  woods  were  part  of  the 
tribute  imposed  on  foreign  nations  conquered  by  the  Pharaohs. 
And  so  highly  were  these  appreciated  for  ornamental  purposes, 
that  painted  imitations  were  made  for  poorer  persons  who  could 
not  afford  them;  and  the  panels,  windows,  doors,  boxes,  and 
various  kinds  of  woodwork,  were  frequently  of  cheap  deal  or  syca- 
more, stained  to  resemble  the  rarest  foreign  woods.  And  the 
remnants  of  them  found  at  Thebes  show  that  these  imitations 
were  clever  substitutes  for  the  reality.  Even  coffins  were  some- 
times made  of  foreign  wood;  and  many  are  found  of  cedar  of 
Lebanon.  The  value  of  foreign  woods  also  suggested  to  the 
Egyptians  the  process  of  veneering;  and  this  was  one  of  the  arts 
of  their  skillful  cabinet  makers. 

The  ceilings  were  of  stucco,  richly  painted  with  various  de- 
vices, tasteful  both  in  their  form  and  the  arrangement  of  the 
colors;  among  the  oldest  of  which  is  the  Guilloche,  often  mis- 
called the  Tuscan  or  Greek  border. 

Both  in  the  interior  and  exterior  of  their  houses  the  walls 
were  sometimes  portioned  out  into  large  panels  of  one  uniform 
color,  flush  with  the  surface,  or  recessed,  not  very  unlike  those  at 
Pompeii ;  and  they  were  red,  yellow,  or  stained  to  resemble  stone 
or  wood.  It  seems  to  have  been  the  introduction  of  this  mode  of 
ornament  into  Roman  houses  that  excited  the  indignation  of  Vi- 
truvius ;  who  says  that  in  old  times  they  used  red  paint  sparingly, 
like  physic,  though  now  whole  walls  are  covered  over  with  it. 


264  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

Fii^ures  were  also  introduced  on  the  blank  walls  in  the  sit- 
tin"--rooms,  or  scenes  from  domestic  life,  surrounded  by  orna- 
mental  borders,  and  surmounted  by  deep  cornices  of  flowers  and 
various  devices  richly  painted ;  and  no  people  appear  to  have  been 
more  fond  of  using  flowers  on  every  occasion.  In  their  domestic 
architecture  they  formed  the  chief  ornament  of  the  mouldings; 
and  every  visitor  received  a  bouquet  of  real  flowers,  as  a  token 
of  welcome  on  entering  a  house.  It  was  the  pipe  and  coffee  of 
the  modern  Egyptians;  and  a  guest  at  a  party  was  not  only 
presented  with  a  lotus,  or  some  other  flower,  but  had  a  chaplet 
placed  round  his  head,- and  another  round  his  neck;  which  led 
the  Roman  poet  to  remark  the  ' '  many  chaplets  on  the  foreheads  '' 
of  the  Egyptians  at  their  banquets.  Everywhere  flowers  abounded; 
they  were  formed  into  wreaths  and  festoons,  they  decked  the 
stands  that  supported  the  vases  in  the  convivial  chamber,  and 
crowned  the  wine-bowl  as  well  as  the  servants  who  bore  the  cup 
from  it  to  the  assembled  guests. 

The  villas  of  the  Egyptians  were  of  great  extent,  and  con- 
tained spacious  gardens,  watered  by  canals  communicating  with 
the  Nile.  They  had  large  tanks  of  water  in  different  parts  of 
the  garden,  which  served  for  ornament,  as  well  as  for  irrigation, 
when  the  Nile  was  low;  and  on  these  the"  master  of  the  house 
occasionally  amused  himself  and  his  friends  by  an  excursion  in  a 
pleasure-boat  towed  by  his  servants.  They  also  enjoyed  the  diver- 
sion of  angling  and  spearing  fish  in  the  ponds  within  their 
grounds,  and  on  these  occasions  they  were  generally  accompanied 
by  a  friend,  or  one  or  more  members  of  their  family.  Particular 
care  was  always  bestowed  upon  the  garden,  and  their  great  fond- 
ness for  flowers  is  shown  by  the  number  they  always  cultivated, 
as  well  as  by  the  women  of  the  family  or  the  attendants  present- 
ing bouquets  to  the  master  of  the  house  and  his  friends  when  they 
walked  there. 

The  house   itself  was  sometimes  ornamented  with  propylae 


PLANS    OF    VILLAS.  265 

and  obelisks,  like  the  temples  themselves ;  it  is  even  possible  that 
part  of  the  building  may  have  been  consecrated  to  religious  pur- 
poses, as  the  chapels  of  other  countries,  since  we  find  a  priest 
engaged  in  presenting  offerings  at  the  door  of  the  inner  chambers ; 
and,  indeed,  were  it  not  for  the  presence  of  the  women,  the  form 
of  the  garden,  and  the  style  of  the  porch,  we  should  feel  disposed " 
to  consider  it  a  temple  rather  than  a  place  of  abode.  The  en- 
trances of  large  villas  were  generally  through  folding  gates, 
standing  between  lofty  towers,  as  at  the  courts  of  temples,  with  a 
small  door  at  each  side;  and  others  had  merely  folding-gates, 
with  the  jambs  surmounted  by  a  cornice.  One  general  wall  of 
circuit  extended  round  the  premises,  but  the  courts  of  the  house, 
the  garden,  the  offices,  and  all  the  other  parts  of  the  villa  had  each 
their  separate  enclosure.  The  walls  were  usually  built  of  crude 
brick,  and,  in  damp  places,  or  when  within  reach  of  the  inunda- 
tion, the  lower  part  was  strengthened  by  a  basement  of  stone. 
They  were  sometimes  ornamented  with  panels  and  grooved  lines, 
generally  stuccoed,  and  the  summit  was  crowned  either  with 
Egyptian  battlements,  the  usual  cornice,  a  row  of  spikes  in 
imitation  of  spear-heads,  or  with  some  fancy  ornament. 

The  plans  of  the  villas  varied  according  to  circumstances, 
but  their  general  arrangement  is  sufficiently  explained  by  the 
paintings.  They  were  surrounded  by  a  high  wall,  about  the 
middle  of  which  was  the  main  or  front  entrance,  with  one  central 
and  two  side  gates,  leading  to  an  open  walk  shaded  by  rows  of 
trees.  Here  were  spacious  tanks  of  water,  facing  the  doors  of 
the  right  and  left  wings  of  the  house,  between  which  an  avenue 
led  from  the  main  entrance  to  what  may  be  called  the  centre 
of  the  mansion.  After  passing  the  outer  door  of  the  right  wing, 
you  entered  an  open  court  with  trees,  extending  quite  round  a 
nucleus  of  inner  apartments,  and  having  a  back  entrance  commu 
nicating  with  the  garden.  On  the  right  and  left  of  this  court 
were  six  or  more  store-rooms,  a  small  receiving  or  waiting  room 


266  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

at  two  of  the  corners,  and  at  the  other  end  the  staircases  which 
led  to  the  upper  stories.  Both  of  the  inner  facades  were  furnished 
with  a  corridor,  supported  on  columns,  with  similar  towers  and 
gateways.  The  interior  of  this  wing  consisted  of  twelve  rooms, 
two  outer  and  one  center  court,  communicating  by  folding  gates ; 
and  on  either  side  of  this  last  was  the  main  entrance  to  the  rooms 
on  the  ground-floor,  and  to  the  staircases  leading  to  the  upper 
story.  At  the  back  were  three  long  rooms,  and  a  gateway  open- 
ing on  the  garden,  which,  besides  flowers,  contained  a  variety  of 
trees,  a  summer-house,  and  a  large  tank  of  water. 

The  arrangement  of  the  left  wing  was  diflerent.  The  front 
gate  led  to  an  open  court,  extending  the  whole  breadth  of  the 
facade  of  the  building,  and  backed  by  the  wall  of  the  inner  part. 
Central  and  lateral  doors  thence  communicated  with  another 
court,  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  a  set  of  rooms,  and  behind  it 
was  a  corridor,  upon  which  several  other  chambers  opened. 

This  wing  had  no  back  entrance,  and  standing  isolated,  the 
outer  court  extended  entirely  around  it ;  and  a  succession  of  door- 
ways communicated  from  the  court  with  diflerent  sections  of  the 
centre  of  the  house,  where  the  rooms,  disposed  like  those  already 
described,  around  passages  and  corridors,  served  partly  as  sitting 
apartments,  and  partly  as  store-rooms. 

The  stables  for  the  horses  and  the  coach-houses  for  the  trav- 
eling chariots  and  carts,  were  in  the  centre,  or  inner  part  of  the 
building ;  but  the  farm-yard  where  the  cattle  were  kept  stood  at 
some  distance  from  the  house,  and  corresponded  to  the  depart- 
ment known  by  the  Romans  under  the  name  of  rtistica.  Though 
enclosed  separately,  it  was  within  the  general  wall  of  circuit, 
which  surrounded  the  land  attached  to  the  villa;  and  a  canal, 
bringing  water  from  the  river,  skirted  it,  and  extended  along  the 
back  of  tlic  grounds.  It  consisted  of  two  parts;  the  sheds  for 
housing  the  cattle,  wliich  stood  at  the  upper  end,  and  the  yard, 
where  rows  of  rings  were  fixed,  in  order  to  tie  them  while  feed- 


IRRIGATION.  267 

ing  in  the  day-time;  and  men  always  attended,  and  frequently 
fed  them  with  the  hand. 

The  granaries  were  also  apart  from  the  house,  and  were 
enclosed  within  a  separate  wall;  and  some  of  the  rooms  in  which 
they  housed  the  grain  appear  to  have  had  vaulted  roofs.  These 
were  filled  through  an  aperture  near  the  top,  to  which  the  men 
ascended  by  steps,  and  the  grain  when  wanted  was  taken  out 
from  a  door  at  the  base. 

The  superintendence  of  the  house  and  grounds  was  intrusted 
to  stewards,  who  regulated  the  tillage  of  the  land,  received  what- 
ever was  derived  from  the  sale  of  the  produce,  overlooked  the 
returns  of  the  quantity  of  cattle  or  stock  upon  the  estate,  settled 
all  the  accounts,  and  condemned  the  delinquent  peasants  to  the 
bastinado,  or  any  punishment  they  might  deserve.  To  one  were 
intrusted  the  affairs  of  the  house,  answering  to  "  the  ruler,"  "  over- 
seer," or  "steward  of  Joseph's  house;"  others  "  superintended  the 
granaries,"  the  vineyard,  or  the  culture  of  the  fields;  and  the  ex- 
tent of  their  duties,  or  the  number  of  those  employed,  depended 
Dn  the  quantity  of  land,  or  the  will  of  its  owner. 

The  mode  of  laying  out  their  gardens  was  as  varied, as  that 
if  the  houses;  but  in  all  cases  they  appear  to  have  taken  par- 
ticular care  to  command  a  plentiful  supply  of  water,  by  means  of 
reservoirs  and  canals.  Indeed,  in  no  country  is  artificial  irriga- 
tion more  required  than  in  the  valley  of  the  Nile;  and,  from  the 
circumstance  of  the  water  of  the  inundation  not  being  admitted 
into  the  gardens,  they  depend  throughout  the  year  on  the  supply 
obtained  from  wells  and  tanks,  or  a  neighboring  canal. 

The  mode  of  irrigation  adopted  by  the  ancient  Egyptians 
was  exceedingly  simple,  being  merely  the  shadoofs  or  pole  and 
bucket  of  the  present  day ;  and,  in  many  instances,  men  were  em- 
ployed to  carry  the  water  in  pails,  suspended  by  a  wooden  yoke 
they  bore  upon  their  shoulders.  The  same  yoke  was  employed 
^or  carrying  other  things,  as  boxes,  baskets  containing  game  and 


268  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

poultry,  or  whatever  was  taken  to  market ;  and  every  trade  seems 
to  have  used  it  for  this  purpose,  from  the  potter  and  the  brick- 
maker,  to  the  carpenter  and  the  shipwright. 

Part  of  the  garden  was  laid  out  in  walks  shaded  with  trees, 
usually  planted  in  rows,  and  surrounded,  at  the  base  of  the  stem, 
with  a  circular  ridge  of  earth,  which,  being  lower  at  the  centre 
than  at  the  circumference,  retained  the  water,  and  directed  it 
more  immediately  towards  the  roots.  It  is  difficult  to  say  if  trees 
were  trimmed  into  any  particular  shape,  or  if  their  formal  appear- 
ance in  the  sculpture  is  merely  owing  to  a  conventional  mode  of 
representing  them;  but,  since  the  pomegranate,  and  some  other 
fruit  trees,  are  drawn  with  spreading  and  irregular  branches,  it 
is  possible  that  sycamores,  and  others,  which  presented  large 
masses  of  foliage,  were  really  trained  in  that  formal  manner, 
though,  from  the  hieroglyphic  signifying  "  tree  "  having  the  same 
shape,  we  may  conclude  it  was  only  a  general  character  for  all 
trees. 

Some,  as  the  pomegranates,  date-trees,  and  (iicwz-palms,  are 
easily  recognized  in  the  sculptures,  but  the  rest  are  doubtful,  as 
are  the  flowering  plants,  with  the  exception  of  the  lotus  and  a 
few  others. 

To  the  garden  department  belonged  the  care  of  the  bees, 
which  were  kept  in  hives  very  like  our  own.  In  Egypt  they  re- 
quired great  attention;  and  so  few  are  its  plants  at  the  present 
day,  that  the  owners  of  hives  often  take  the  bees  in  boats  to 
various  spots  upon  the  Nile,  in  quest  of  flowers.  They  are  a 
smaller  kind  than  our  own;  and  though  found  wild  in  the  coun- 
try, they  are  far  less  numerous  than  wasps,  hornets,  and  ichneu- 
mons. The  wild  bees  live  mostly  under  stones,  or  in  clefts  of  the 
rock,  as  in  many  other  countries;  and  the  expression  of  Moses, 
as  of  the  Psalmist,  "  honey  out  of  the  rock,"  shows  that  in 
Palestine  their  habits  were  the  same.  Honey  was  thought  of 
great  importance  in  Egypt,  both  for  household  purposes,  and  for 


GARDENS. 


269 


an  offering  to  the  gods;  that  of  Benha  (thence  surnamed  El 
assal)^  or  Athribis,  in  the  Delta,  retained  its  reputation  to  a  late 
time;  and  a  jar  of  honey  from  that  place  was  one  of  the  lour 
presents  sent  by  John  Mekaukes,  the  governor  of  Egypt,  to  Mo- 
hammed. 

Large  gardens  were  usually  divided  into  different  parts;  the 
principal  sections  being  appropriated  to  the  date  and  sycamore 
trees,  and  to  the  vineyard.  The  former  may  be  called  the  or- 
chard. The  flower  and  kitchen  gardens  also  occupied  a  consider- 
able space,  laid  out  in  beds;  and  dwarf  trees,  herbs,  and  flowers, 
were  grown  in  red  earthen  pots,  exactly  like  our  own,  arranged 
in  long  rows  by  the  walks  and  borders. 

Besides  the  orchard  and  gardens,  some  of  the  large  villas 
had  a  park  or  paradise,  with  its  fish-ponds  and  preserves  for  game, 
as  well  as  poultry-yards  for  keeping  hens  and  geese,  stalls  for  fat- 
tening cattle,  wild  goats,  gazelles,  and  other  animals  originally 
from  the  desert,  whose  meat  was  reckoned  among  the  dainties  of 
the  table. 

It  was  in  these  extensive  preserves  that  the  rich  amused 
themselves  with  the  chase ;  and  they  also  enclosed  a  considerable 
space  in  the  desert  itself  with  net-fences,  into  which  the  animals 
were  driven,  and  shot  with  arrows,  or  hunted  with  dogs. 

Gardens  are  frequently  represented  in  the  tombs  of  Thebes 
and  other  parts  of  Egypt,  many  of  which  are  remarkable  for  their 
extent.  The  one  here  introduced  is  shown  to  have  been  sur- 
rounded by  an  embattled  wall,  with  a  canal  of  water  passing  in 
front  of  it,  connected  with  the  river.  Between  the  canal  and  the 
wall,  and  parallel  to  them  both,  was  a  shady  avenue  of  various 
trees;  and  about  the  centre  was  the  entrance,  through  a  lofty 
door,  whose  lintel  and  jambs  were  decorated  with  hieroglyphic 
inscriptions,  containing  the  name  of  the  owner  of  the  grounds, 
who  in  this  instance  was  the  king  himself.  In  the  gateway  were 
rooms  for  the  porter,  and  other  persons  employed  about  the  gar- 


270 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


den,  and,  probably,  the  receiving  room  for  visitors,  whose  abrupt 
admission  might  be  unwelcome;  and  at  the  back  a  gate  opened 
into  the  vineyard.  Tl;e  vines  were  trained  on  a  trellis-work,  sup- 
ported by  transverse  rafters  resting  on  pillars;  and  a  wall,  extend- 
ing round  it,  separated  this  part  from  the  rest  of  the  garden.  At 
the  upper  end  were  suits  of  rooms  on  three  different  stories,  look- 
ino-  upon  green  trees,  and  affording  a  pleasant  retreat  in  the  heat 
of  summer.  On  the  outside  of  the  vineyard  wall  were  placed 
rows  of  palms,  which  occurred  again  with  the  dom  and  other 
trees,  along  the  whole  length  of  the  exterior  wall ;  four  tanks  of 
water,  bordered  by  a  grass  plot,  where  geese  were  kept,  and  the 
delicate  flower  of  the  lotus  was  encouraged  to  grow,  served  for 
the  irrigation  of  the  grounds;  and  small  y?'?b5^^' or  summer-houses, 
shaded  with  trees,  stood  near  the  water,  and  overlooked  beds  of 
flowers.  The  spaces  containing  the  tanks,  and  the  adjoining  por- 
tions of  the  garden,  were  each  enclosed  by  their  respective  walls, 
and  a  small  subdivision  on  either  side,  between  the  large  and 
small  tanks,  seems  to  have  been  reserved  for  the  growth  of  par- 
ticular trees,  which  either  required  peculiar  care,  or  bore  a  fruit 
of  superior  quality. 


^^A» 


J^QYPTIAN    ^Vy^^ALTH. 


That  the  riches  of  the  country  were  immense  is  proved  by 
the  appearance  of  the  furniture  and  domestic  utensils,  and  by  the 
^reat  quantity  of  jewels  of  gold  and  silver,  precious  stones,  and 
other  objects  of  luxury  in  use  among  them  in  the  earliest  times; 
their  treasures  became  proverbial  throughout  the  neighboring 
states,  and  a  love  of  pomp  and  splendor  continued  to  be  the 
ruling  passion  of  the  Egyptians  till  the  latest  period  of  their 
existence  as  an  independent  state. 

The  wealth  of  Egypt  was  principally  derived  from  t^xes, 
foreign  tribute,  monopolies,  commerce,  mines,  and  above  all  from 
the  productions  of  a  fruitful  soil.  The  wants  of  the  poorer 
classes  were  easily  satisfied;  the  abundance  of  grain,  herbs  and 
esculent  plants,  afforded  an  ample  supply  to  the  inhabitants  of  the 
valley  of  the  Nile,  at  a  trifling  expense,  and  with  little  labor; 
and  so  much  corn  was  produced  in  this  fertile  country,  that  after 
sufficing  for  the  consumption  of  a  very  extensive  population, 
it  offered  a  great  surplus  for  the  foreign  market;  and  afforded 
considerable  profit  to  the  government,  being  exported  to  other 
countries,  or  sold  to  the  traders  who  visited  Egypt  for  commer- 
cial purposes. 

The  gold  mines  of  the  Bisharee  desert  were  in  those  times 
very  productive;  and,  though  we  have  no  positive  notice  of  their 
first  discovery,  there  is  reason  to  believe  they  were  worked  at 
the  earliest  periods  of  the  Egyptian  monarchy.     The  total  of  the 


272 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


annual  produce  of  the  gold  and  silver  mines  (which  Diodorus,  on 
the  authority  of  Hecataeus,  says,  was  recorded  in  the  tomb  of 
Osymandyas  at  Thebes,  apparently  a  king  of  the  19th  dynasty)  is 
stated  to  have  been  3,200  myriads,  or  32  millions  of  mince — a 
weight  of  that  country,  called  by  the  Egyptians  mn  or  mna^ 
60  of  which  were  equal  to  one  talent.  The  whole  sum  amounted 
to  665  millions  of  our  money;  but  it  was  evidently  exaggerated. 

The  position  of  the  silver  mines  is  unknown;  but  the  gold 
mines  of  Allaga,  and  other  quartz  "diggings,"  have  been  discov- 
ered, as  well  as  those  of  copper,  lead,  iron  and  emeralds,  all  of 
which  are  in  the  desert  near  the  Red  Sea ;  and  the  sulphur,  which 
abounds  in  the  same  districts,  was  not  neglected  by  the  ancient 
Egyptians. 

The  abundance  of  gold  and  silver  in  Egypt  and  other  ancient 
countries,  and  the  sums  reported  to  have  been  spent,  accord  well 
with  the  reputed  productiveness  of  the  mines  in  those  days ;  and, 
as  the  subject  has  become  one  of  peculiar  interest,  it  may  be  well 
to  inquire  respecting  the  quantity  and  the  use  of  the  precious 
metals  in  ancient  times.  They  were  then  mostly  confined  to  the 
treasures  of  princes,  and  of  some  rich  individuals;  the  proportion 
employed  for  commercial  purposes  was  small,  copper  sufficing 
for  most  purchases  in  the  home  market;  and  nearly  all  the  gold 
and  silver  money  (as  yet  uncoined)  was  in  the  hands  of  the  wealthy 
few.  The  manufacture  of  jewelry,  and  other  ornamental  objects 
took  up  a  small  portion  of  the  great  mass;  but  it  required  the 
wealth  and  privilege  of  royalty  to  indulge  in  a  grand  display 
of  gold  and  silver  vases,  or  similar  objects  of  size  and  value. 

The  mines  of  those  days,  from  which  was  derived  the  wealth 
of  Egypt,  Lydia,  Persia,  and  other  countries,  afforded  a  large 
supply  of  the  precious  metals;  and  if  most  of  them  are  now 
exhausted  or  barely  retain  evidences  of  the  treasures  the}^  once 
gave  forth,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  their  former  productiveness; 
and  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  gold  and  silver  abounded  in 


GOLD    AND    SILVER.  27-2 

early  times  in  those  parts  of  the  world  which  were  first  inhabited 
as  they  did  in  countries  more  recently  peopled.    They  may  never 
have  afforded  at  any  period  the   immense  riches  of  a   California 
or  an  Australia,  yet  there  is  evidence  of  their  having  been  suffi- 
ciently distributed  over  various  parts  of  the  old  world. 

For  though  Herodotus  (iii.,  io6)  says  that  the  extremities 
of  the  earth  possess  the  greatest  treasures ;  these  extremities  may 
approach  or  become  the  centre,  /.  e.^  of  civilization,  when  they 
arrive  at  that  eminence  which  all  great  countries  in  their  turn 
seem  to  have  a  chance  of  reaching;  and  Britain,  the  country  of 
the  greatly  coveted  tin,  once  looked  upon  as  separated  from  the 
rest  of  mankind,  is  now  one  of  the  commercial  centres  of  the 
world.  The  day,  too,  has  come  when  Australia  and  California 
are  rivals  for  a  similar  distinction;  and  England,  the  rendez- 
vous of  America  in  her  contests  with  Europe,  has  yielded  its 
turn  to  younger  competitors. 

The  greatest  quantity  of  gold  and  silver  in  earl}^  times  was 
derived  from  the  East ;  and  Asia  and  Egypt  possessed  abundance 
of  those  metals.  The  trade  of  Colchis,  and  the  treasures  of  the 
Arimaspes  and  Massagetse,  coming  from  the  Ural  (or  from  the 
Altai)  mountains,  supplied  much  gold  at  a  very  early  period, 
and  Indian  commerce  sent  a  large  supply  to  western  Asia. 
Spain,  the  Isle  of  Thasos,  and  other  places,  were  resorted  to 
by  the  Phcenicians,  particularly  for  silver;  and  Spain,  for  its 
mines,  became  the  "  El  Dorado  "  of  those  adventurous  traders. 

The  mines  of  the  Eastern  desert,  the  tributes  from  Ethiopia 
and  Central  Africa,  as  well  as  from  Asia,  enriched  Egypt  with 
gold  and  silver;  but  it  was  long  before  Greece  (where  in  heroic 
times  the  precious  metals  were  scarcely  known)  obtained  a  mod- 
erate supply  of  silver  from  her  own  mines ;  and  gold  only  became 
abundant  there  after  the  Persian  war. 

Thrace  and  Macedonia  produced  gold,  as  well  as  other  coun- 
tries, but  confined  it  to  their  own  use,  as  Ireland  employed  the 


2JA  DOMESTIC    LIFE. 

produce  of  its  mines;  and  as  early  Italy  did,  when  its  various 
small  states  were  still  free  from  the  Roman  yoke;  and  though  the 
localities  from  which  silver  was  obtained  in  more  ancient  times 
are  less  known,  it  is  certain  that  it  was  used  at  a  very  remote 
period;  and  (as  before  stated)  it  was  commonly  employed  in 
Abraham's  time  for  mercantile  transactions. 

Gold  is  mentioned  on  the  Egyptian  monuments  of  the  4th 
dynasty,  and  silver  was  probably  of  the  same  early  time ;  but  gold 
was  evidently  known  in  Egypt  before  silver,  which  is  consistent 
with  reason,  gold  being  more  easily  obtained  than  silver,  and  fre- 
quently near  the  surface  or  in  streams. 

The  relative  value  and  quantity  of  the  precious  metals  in  the 
earliest  times,  in  Egypt  and  Western  Asia,  are  not  known;  and 
even  if  a  greater  amount  of  gold  were  found  mentioned  in  a 
tribute,  this  could  be  no  proof  of  the  silver  being  more  rare,  as 
it  might  merely  be  intended  to  show  the  richness  of  the  gifts.  In 
the  tribute  brought  to  Thothmes  III.  by  the  Southern  Ethiopians 
and  three  Asiatic  people,  the  former  present  scarcely  any  silver, 
but  great  quantities  of  gold  in  rings,  ingots,  and  dust.  The  Asi- 
atic people  of  Fount  bring  two  baskets  of  gold  rings,  and  one  of 
gold  dust  in  bags,  a  much  smaller  amount  of  gold  than  the  Ethi- 
opians, and  no  silver;  those  of  Kufa,  or  Kaf,  more  silver  than 
gold,  and  a  considerable  quantity  of  both  made  into  vases  of 
handsome  and  varied  shapes;  and  the  Rot-n-n  (apparently  living 
on  the  Euphrates)  present  rather  more  gold  than  silver,  a  large 
basket  of  gold  and  a  smaller  one  of  silver  rings,  two  small  silver 
and  several  large  gold  vases,  which  are  of  the  most  elegant  shape, 
as  well  as  colored  glass  or  porcelain  cups,  and  much  incense  and 
i)itumen.  The  great  Asiatic  tribute  to  the  same  king  at  Karnak, 
-speaks  in  one  place  of  100  ingots  (or  pounds  weight?)  of  gold 
and  silver,  and  afterwards  of  401  of  silver;  but  the  imperfect 
preservation  of  that  record  prevents  our  ascertaining  how  much 
gold  was  brought,  or  the  relative  proportions  of  the  two  metals. 


WORTH    OF    GOLD. 


275 


M.  Leon  Faucher,  indeed,  suggested  that  the  vakie  of  silver 
in  some  countries  originally  equaled,  if  it  did  not  exceed,  that  oi 
gold  .  .  .  and  the  laws  of  Menes  state  that  gold  was  worth  two 
and  a  half  times  more  than  silver.  .  .  .  Everywhere,  except  in 
India,  between  the  fifth  and  sixth  century  B.  C,  the  relative  value 
of  gold  and  silver  was  6  or  8  to  i,  as  it  was  in  China  and  Japan 
at  the  end  of  the  last  century.  In  Greece  it  was,  according  to 
Herodotus,  as  13  to  i;  afterwards,  in  Plato's  and  Xenophon's 
time,  and  more  than  100  years  after  the  death  of  Alexander,  as 
10  to  I,  owing  to  the  quantity  of  gold  brought  in  through  the 
Persian  war;  when  the  value  of  both  fell  so  much,  that  in  the 
time  of  Demosthenes  it  was  five  times  less  than  at  the  death  of 
Solon. 

Though  it  may  not  be  possible  to  arrive  at  any  satisfactory 
conclusion  respecting  the  quantity  of  gold  and  silver  taken  from 
the  mines,  employed  in  objects  of  art  and  luxury,  or  in  circula- 
tion as  money  in  Egypt  and  other  countries,  we  shall  introduce 
a  few  facts  derived  from  the  accounts  of  ancient  authors,  relating 
to  the  amount  of  wealth  amassed,  and  the  purposes  to  which 
those  precious  metals  were  applied.  We  shall  also  show  some 
of  the  fluctuations  that  have  taken  place  in  the  supply  of  them  at 
various  periods ;  and  shall  endeavor  to  establish  a  comparison  be- 
tween the  quantity  said  to  have  been  in  use  in  ancient  and  modern 
times. 

When  we  read  of  the  enormous  wealth  amassed  by  the 
Egyptian  and  Asiatic  kings,  or  the  plunder  by  Alexander  and 
the  Romans,  we  wonder  how  so  much  could  have  been  obtained; 
for,  even  allowing  for  considerable  exaggeration  in  the  accounts 
of  early  times,  there  is  no  reason  to  disbelieve  the  private  for- 
tunes of  individuals  at  Rome,  and  the  sums  squandered  by  them, 
or  even  the  amount  of  some  of  the  tributes  levied  in  the  East. 
Of  ancient  cities,  Babylon  is  particularly  cited  by  Herodotus  and 
others  for  its  immense  wealth.   Diodorus  (ii.  9)  mentions  a  golden 


276 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


statue  of  Jupiter  at  Babylon  40  feet  high,  weighing  i  ,000  Baby- 
lonian talents;  another  of  Rhea,  of  equal  weight,  having  two 
lions  on  its  knees,  and  near  it  silver  serpents  of  300  talents  each; 
a  standing  statue  of  Juno  weighing  800  talents,  holding  a  snake, 
and  a  sceptre  set  with  gems;  as  well  ^s  a  golden  table  of  500 
talents  weight,  on  which  were  two  cups  weighing  300  talents,  and 
two  censers  each  of  300  talents  weight,  with  three  golden  bowls, 
one  of  which,  belonging  to  Jupiter,  weighed  1,200  talents,  the 
others  each  600;  making  a  total  of  at  least  6,900  talents,  reck- 
oned equal  to  $55,000,000.  And  the  golden  image  of  Nebu- 
chadnezzar, 60  cubits,  or  90  feet  high,  at  the  same  ratio  would 
weigh  2,250  talents,  or  $17,934,820. 

David,  who  had  not  the  Indian  and  Arabian  trade  afterwards 
obtained  by  Solomon,  left  for  the  building  of  the  temple  100,000 
talents  of  gold  and  1,000,000  of  silver;  and  the  sum  given  by  him 
of  his  "own  proper  good,"  "over  and  above  all  prepared  for  the 
holy  house,"  was  "  3,000  talents  of  gold  "  and  "  7,000  of  refined 
silver;"  besides  the  chief  men's  contributions  of  500  talents  and 
10,000  drachms  of  gold,  10,000  talents  of  silver,  and  an  abund- 
ance of  brass,  iron,  and  precious  stones. 

The  annual  tribute  of  Solomon  was  666  talents  of  gold,  be- 
sides that  brought  by  the  merchants,  and  the  present  from  the 
Queen  of  Sheba  of  120  talents;  and  the  quantity  of  gold  and 
silver  used  in  the  temple  and  his  house  was  extraordinary.  Mr. 
Jacob,  in  his  valuable  work  on  the  precious  metals,  has  noticed 
many  of  these  immense  sums,  collected  in  old  times.  Among 
them  are  the  tribute  of  Darius,  amounting  to  9,880  talents  of  sil- 
ver and  4,680  of  gold,  making  a  total  of  14,560,  estimated  at 
about  $37,250,000;  the  sums  taken  by  Xerxes  to  Greece;  the 
wealth  of  Croesus;  the  riches  of  Pytheus,  king  of  a  small  territory 
in  Phrygia,  possessing  gold  and  silver  mines,  who  entertained  the 
army  of  Xerxes,  and  gave  him  2,000  talents  of  silver  and  4,093,- 
000  staters  of  gold  (equal  to  23,850,000  dollars  of  our  money); 


TREASURES. 


277 


the  treasures  acquired  by  Alexander,  in  Susa  and  Persia,  exclu. 
sive  of  that  found  in  the  Persian  camp  and  in  Babylon,  said  to 
have  amounted  to  40,000  or  50,000  talents;  the  treasure  of  Perse- 
polis  rated  at  120,000  talents;  that  of  Pasagarda  at  6,000;  and 
the  180,000  talents  collected  at  the  capture  of  Ecbatana;  besides 
6,000  which  Darius  had  with  him,  and  were  taken  by  his  mur- 
derers. "  Ptolemy  Philadelphus  is  stated  by  Appian  to  have  pos- 
sessed treasure  to  the  enormous  amount  of  740,000  talents;" 
either  "  890  million  dollars,  or  at  least  a  quarter  of  that  sum;" 
and  fortunes  of  private  individuals  at  Rome  show  the  enormous 
wealth  they  possessed.  "  Crassus  had  in  lands  $8,072,915,  be- 
sides as  much  more  in  money,  furniture,  and  slaves;  Seneca, 
$12,109,375;  Pallas,  the  freedman  of  Claudius,  an  equal  sum; 
Lentulus,  the  augur,  $16,145,805;  Csec.  CI.  Isidorus,  though  he 
had  lost  a  great  part  of  his  fortune  in  the  civil  war,  left  by  his 
will  4,116  slaves,  3,600  yoke  of  oxen,  257,000  other  cattle,  and 
in  ready  money  $2,421,875.  Augustus  received  by  the  testa- 
ments of  his  friends  $161,458,330.  Tiberius  left  at  his  death 
$108,984,375,  which  Caligula  lavished  away  in  less  than  one 
year;  and  Vespasian,  at  his  succession,  said  that  to  support  the 
state  he  required  quadrigrenties  7nillies^  or  $1,614,083,330.  The 
debts  of  Milo  amounted  to  $2,825,520.  J.  Caesar,  before  he  held 
any  office,  owed  1,300  talents,  $1,279,375;  and  when  he  set  out 
for  Spain  after  his  prsetorship,  he  is  reported  to  have  said,  that 
*Bis  millies  et  quingenties  sibi  deesse,  ut  nihil  haberet,'  or  'that 
he  was  $10,091,145  worse  than  nothing.'  When  he  first  entered 
Rome,  in  the  beginning  of  the  civil  war,  he  took  out  of  the  treas- 
ury $5,479,895,  and  brought  into  it  at  the  end  of  it  $24,218,750; 
he  purchased  the  friendship  of  Curio,  at  the  commencement  of 
the  civil  war,  by  a  bribe  of  $2,421,856,  and  that  of  the  consul, 
L.  Paulus,  by  1,500  talents,  about  $1,397,500;  Apicius  wasted 
on  luxurious  living  $2,421,875;  Caligula  laid  out  on  a  supper 
$403,625;  and  the  ordinary  expense  of  Lucullus  for  a  supper  in 


zjS 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


the  Hall  of  Apollo  was  50,000  drachms,  or  $8,070.  The  house 
of  Marius,  bought  of  Cornelia  for  $12,105,  was  sold  to  Lucullus 
for  $80,760;  the  burning  of  his  villa  was  a  loss  to  M.  Scaurus  of 
$4,036,455;  and  Nero's  golden  house  must  have  cost  an  im- 
mense sum,  since  Otho  laid  out  in  furnishing  a  part  of  it  $2,017,- 
225."  But  though  Rome  was  greatly  enriched  by  conquest,  she 
never  obtained  possession  of  the  chief  wealth  of  Asia;  and  the 
largest  quantit}^  of  the  precious  metals  was  always  excluded  from 
the  calculations  of  ancient  writers. 

The  whole  revenue  of  the  Roman  Empire  under  Augustus  is 
"supposed  to  have  been  equal  to  200  millions  of  our  money;" 
and  at  the  time  of  his  death  (A.D.  14)  the  gold  and  silver  in  cir- 
culation throughout  the  empire  is  supposed  to  have  amounted  to 
$1,790,000,000;  which  at  a  reduction  of  i  grain  in  360  every 
year  for  wear,  would  have  been  reduced  by  the  year  A.D  48 2  to 
$435,165,495;  and  when  the  mines  of  Hungary  and  Germany 
began  to  be  worked,  during  the  seventh  and  ninth  centuries,  the 
entire  amount  of  coined  money  was  not  more  than  about  42  at 
the  former,  and  165  or  170  million  dollars  at  the  latter,  period;  so 
that  if  no  other  supply  had  been  obtained,  the  quantity  then  cir- 
culating would  long  since  have  been  exhausted. 

"  The  loss  by  wear  on  silver  "  is  shown  by  Mr.  Jacob  "  to  be 
four  times  that  of  gold;"  that  on  our  money  is  estimated  at  more 
than  one  part  in  a  hundred  annually;  and  "  the  smaller  the  pieces, 
the  greater  loss  do  they  suffer  by  abrasion.'^  "  The  maximum 
of  durability  of  gold  coins  seems  to  be  fixed  at  22  parts,  in  24, 
of  pure  gold  with  the  appropriate  alloys.  When  the  fineness 
ascends  or  descends  from  that  point,  the  consumption  by  abrasion 
is  increased." 

It  is  from  its  ductility  that  gold  wears  so  much  less  than  sil- 
ver; and  man}^  ancient  gold  coins  (as  those  of  Alexander  and 
others),  though  evidently  worn  by  use,  nearly  retain  their  true 
weight,  from  the  surface  being  partly  transferred  into  the  adjacent 
hollows,  and  not  entirel}'  rubbed  off  as  in  silver. 


TOTAL  VALUE  OF  GOLD. 


279 


The  quantity  of  the  precious  metals,  formerly  used  for  the 
purposes  of  luxury,  greatly  diminished  after  the  decline  of  the 
Roman  empire,  and  in  the  middle  ages  they  were  sparingly  em- 
ployed except  for  coinage;  ornamental  work  in  gold  and  silver,, 
mostly  executed  by  first-rate  artists,  being  confined  to  men  of 
rank,  till  the  opening  of  new  mines  added  to  the  supply;  which 
was  afterwards  increased  by  the  abundant  treasures  of  America ; 
and  the  quantity  applied  to  ornamental  purposes  then  began,  to 
vie  with  that  of  olden  times. 

M.  Leon  Faucher  even  calculates  the  annual  abstraction  of 
the  precious  metals  from  circulation  b}'  use  for  luxury,  disasters 
at  sea,  and  export,  at  25  million  dollars,  in  Europe  and  the  United 
States . 

The  silver  from  the  American  mines  exported  to  Europe  in 
100  years,  to  1630,  gave  an  addition  to  the  currency  of  5  million 
dollars  annually,  besides  that  used  for  other  purposes,  or  re-ex- 
ported; and  from  1630  to  1830  from  7!/^  to  10  millions  annually; 
an  increase  in  the  quantity  used  for  currency  having  taken  place^ 
as  well  as  in  that  exported  to  India,  and  employed  for  purposes 
of  luxury. 

Humboldt  states  the  whole  quantity  of  gold  from  the  Ameri- 
can mines,  up  to  1803,  to  be  162  millions  of  pounds  in  weight, 
and  of  silver  7,178  millions,  or  44  of  silver  to  i  of  gold. 

Again,  the  total  value  of  gold  produced  during  three  cen- 
turies to  1848,  including  that  from  Russia,  has  been  estimated  at 
$2,825,000,000;  and  the  total  annual  quantity  of  gold,  before  the 
discovery  of  the  Californian  fields,  has  been  reckoned  at  about 
$50,000,000.  That  from  California  and  Australia  already  amounts 
yearly  to  $170,000,000  (or  3  2-5  times  as  much  as  previously 
obtained),  and  is  still  increasing;  but  though  far  beyond  the  sup- 
ply afforded  by  the  discovery  of  America,  the  demand  made  upon 
it  by  the  modern  industry  of  man,  together  with  the  effect  of 
rapid  communication,  and  of  the  extension  of  trade,  as  well  as  by 


28o 


DOMESTIC    LIFE. 


the  great  deficiency  of  gold  in  the  world,  will  prevent  its  action 
beino-  felt  in  the  same  way  as  when  the  American  supply  was  first 
obtained;  and  still  less  will  be  the  effect  now,  than  it  would  have 
been  in  ancient  times,  if  so  large  and  sudden  a  discovery  had  then 
been  made.  For,  as  Chevalier  says,  "Vast  as  is  the  whole  amount 
of  gold  in  the  world,  it  sinks  into  significance  when  contrasted 
with  the  aggregate  product  of  other  branches  of  human  industry. 
If  they  increase  as  fast  as  the  gold,  little  or  no  alteration  will  take 
place  in  its  value;  which  depends  on  the  relation  between  it  and 
the  annual  production  of  other  wealth." 

According  to  another  calculation,  all  the  gold  now  in  the 
world  is  supposed  to  be  equal  to  about  $3,410,000,000;  but 
the  whole  amount  of  either  of  the  two  precious  metals  in  old  times 
is  not  easily  ascertained,  nor  can  any  definite  comparison  be  es- 
tablished between  their  former  and  present  value.  And  still  less 
in  Egypt,  than  in  Greece  and  Rome,  no  standard  of  calculation 
being  obtainable  from  the  prices  of  commodities  there,  or  from 
any  other  means  of  determining  the  value  of  gold  and  silver. 


p<)fif;^TiP  ^raj^31f^3. 


The  immense  number  and  variety  of  statues,  lamps,  urns, 
articles  of  domestic  use,  in  metal  or  earthenware,  etc.,  dis- 
covered at  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii,  have  rendered  the 
Museum  at  Naples  an  inexhaustible  treasury  of  information 
relative  to  the  private  life  of  the  ancients.  To  give  an  adequate 
description  of  the  richness  and  variety  of  its  contents  would  far 
exceed  the  whole  extent  of  this  work,  much  more  the  smal? 
space  which  it  can  have;  but  that  space  can  not  be  better  occu- 
pied than  in  describing  some  few  articles  which  possess  an 
interest  from  the  ingenuity  of  their  construction,  the  beauty  of 
their  workmanship,  or  their  power  to  illustrate  ancient  usages 
or  ancient  authors. 

Writing  implements  are  among  the  most  important  of  the 
latter  class,  on  account  of  the  constant  mention  of  them,  as 
well  as  of  the  influence  which  the  comparative  ease  or  difficulty 
of  producing  copies  of  writing  is  always  found  to  exert  over 
society.  On  this  head  there  is  no  want  of  information.  The 
implements  used  are  frequently  mentioned,  especially  in  familiar 
writings,  as  the  letters  of  Cicero,  and  their  forms  have  been 
tolerably  ascertained  from  various  fragments  of  ancient  paintings. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  state  that  for  manuscripts  of  any 
length,  and  such  as  were  meant  to  be  preserved,  parchment  or 
vellum,  and  a  vegetable  tissue  manufactured  from  the  rush  papy- 

281 


282  DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 

rus^  were  in  use.  The  stalk  of  this  plant  consists  of  a  number  of 
thin  concentric  coats,  which,  being  carefully  detached,  were  pasted 
crossways  one  over  the  other,  like  the  warp  and  woof  in  woven 
manufactures,  so  that  the  fibres  ran  longitudinally  in  each  direc- 
tion, and  opposed  in  each  an  equal  resistance  to  violence.  The 
surface  was  then  polished  with  a  shell,  or  some  hard  smooth  sub- 
stance. The  ink  used  was  a  simple  black  liquid,  containing  no 
mordant  to  give  it  durability,  so  that  the  writing  was  easily 
effaced  by  the  application  of  a  sponge.  The  length  of  the  Greek 
papyri  is  said  to  vary  from  eight  to  twelve  inches;  the  Latin 
often  reach  sixteen;  the  writing  is  in  columns,  placed  at  right 
angles  to  the  length  of  the  roll. 

To  each  of  them  is  appended  a  sort  of  ticket,  which  served 
as  a  title.  Hence  the  end  of  the  roll,  or  volume,  was  called 
frons^  a  term  of  frequent  recurrence  in  Ovid  and  Martial, 
and  not  always  rightly  understood.  Hence,  also,  when  we  meet 
with  the  expression,  gemina  frons^  we  must  understand  that  the 
volume  had  a  ticket  at  each  end.  These  books  were  also 
composed  of  two  tables  or  pages,  and  served  for  memoran- 
da, letters,  and  other  writings,  not  intended  to  be  pre- 
served. They  were  composed  of  leaves  of  wood  or  metal  coated 
over  with  wax,  upon  which  the  ancients  wrote  with  a  stylus^  or 
iron  pen,  or  point  rather,  for  it  was  a  solid  sharp-pointed  instru- 
ment, some  6  to  8  inches  in  length,  like  a  lady's  stiletto  upon  a 
large  scale.  In  the  middle  of  each  leaf  there  appears  to  have 
been  a  button,  called  umbilicus^  intended  to  prevent  the  pages 
touching  when  closed,  and  obliterating  the  letters  traced  on  the 
yielding  wax. 

The  tablets  here  represented  would  be  called  twofold,  as 
consisting  only  of  two  leaves;  in  the  following  cut  may  be  seen 
another  sort,  consisting  of  several  leaves,  united  at  the  back  with 
hinges  or  rings.  In  Latin  they  were  called  tabulce^  or  tahellce^ 
and  the  epithets,  duplices,  triplices,  quintuplices,  served  to  mark 
the  number  of  the  leaves. 


WRITING    MATERIALS. 


283 


Beside  them  stands  a  double  inkstand,  intended  probably  to 
contain  both  black  and  red  ink.  The  former  was  made  either  of 
lampblack  or  some  other  sort  of  charcoal,  or  from  the  cuttlefish, 
and  was  called  atramentum.  As  it  contained  no  mordant,  and 
was  readily  obliterated  by  moisture,  it  could  be  used  for  writing 
upon  ivory  tablets;  and  it  has  been  conjectured  that  some  sorts 
of  paper  were  covered  with  a  wash,  or  varnish,  to  facilitate  the 
discharge  of  the  old  writing,  and  render  the  paper  serviceable  a 
second  time.  Red  ink  was  prepared  from  cinnabar.  The  reed, 
cut  to  a  point,  which  lies  beside  the  inkstand,  is  the  instrument 
used  in  writing  with 
ink  before  the  applica- 
ion  of  quills.  It  was 
called  calamus.  The 
open  papyrus  explains 
how  manuscripts  were  tabula,  calamus,  and  papyrus. 

read,  rolled  up  at  each  end,  so  as  to  show  only  the  column  of 
writing  upon  which  the  student  was  intent.  At  the  other  side  is 
a  purse,  or  bag,  to  hold  the  reed,  penknife,  and  other  writing  in- 
struments. 

The  next  cut  represents,  besides  a  set  of  tablets  bound  up,  a 
single  one  hanging  from  a  nail.     Such,  probably,  were  those  sus- 
pended at  Epidaurus, 
containing      remedies 
by  which  the  sick  had 
been    cured,    by    the 
— -  perusal  of  which  Hip- 
pocrates is  said  to  have 
It   also  con- 


TABUL.E,  STYLUS,  AND  PAPYRUS. 

profited  in  the  compilation  of  his  medical  works, 
tains,  besides  a  papyrus  similar  to  those  described,  a  hexagonal 
inkstand,  with  a  ring  to  pass  the  finger  through,  upon  which 
there  lies  an  instrument  resembling  a  reed,  but  the  absence  of  the 
knots,  or  joints,  marks  it  to  be  a  stylus.  Another  of  these  in- 
struments leans  against  the  open  book. 


284 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


TABUL/E  AND  INK  STAND. 


These  were  made  of  every  sort  of  material ;  sometimes  with 
the  precious  metals,  but  usually  of  iron,  and  on  occasion  might 
be  turned  into  formidable  weapons.  It  was  with  his  stylus  that 
Caesar  stabbed  Casca  in  the  arm,  when  attacked  in  the  senate  by 
his  murderers;  and  Caligula  employed  some  person  to  put  to 
death  a  senator  with  the  same  instruments 

In  the  reign  of  Claudius  women  and  boys  were  searched  to 
ascertain  whether  there  were  styluses  in  their  pen-cases.    Stabbing 

with  the  pen,  there- 
fore, is  not  merely  a 
metaphorical  expres- 
sion. Tablets  such  as 
those  here  represent- 
ed, were  the  day- 
books, or  account-books.  When  they  were  full,  or  when  the 
writing  on  them  was  no  longer  useful,  the  wax  was  smoothed, 
and  they  were  ready  again  for  other  service. 

The  cut  above,  besides  an  inkstand,  represents  an  open  book. 
The  thinness  and  yellowish  color  of  the  leaves,  which  are  tied 
together  with  ribbon,  denotes  that  it  was  rnade  of  parchment  or 
vellum. 

Below  is  a  cylindrical  box,  called  scrzmum  and  capsa^  or 
capsula^  in  which  the  manuscripts  were  placed  vertically,  the 
titles  at  the  top.  Catul- 
lus excuses  himself  to 
Manlius  for  not  havins: 
sent  him  the  required 
verses,  because  he  had 
with  him  onl}^  one  box  ^ 
of  his  books.  It  is  evi- 
dent that  a  great  number  of  volumes  might  be  comprised  in 
this  way  within  a  small  space;  and  this  may  tend  to  explain  the 
smallness   of  the  ancient   libraries — at  least  of  the  rooms  which 


LIBRARIES   AND  MONEY. 


LITERATURE. 


285 


are  considered  to  have  been  such.  Beside  the  box  are  two 
tablets,  which,  from  the  money-bag  and  coins  scattered  about, 
had  probably  been  used  in  reckoning  accounts. 

No  perfect  papyri,  but  only  fragments,  have  been  found  at 
Pompeii.  At  Herculaneum,  up  to  the  3^ear  1825,  1,756  had  been 
obtained,  besides  many  others  destroyed  by  the  workmen,  who 
imagined  them  to  be  mere  sticks  of  charcoal.  Most  of  them  were 
found  in  a  suburban  villa,  in  a  room  of  small  dimensions,  ranofed 
in  presses  round  the  sides  of  the  room,  in  the  .centre  of  which 
stood  a  sort  of  rectangular  book-case. 

Sir  Humphry  Davy,  after  investigating  their  chemical  nature, 
arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  they  had  not  been  carbonized  by 
heat,  but  changed  by  the  long  action  of  air  and  moisture;  and  he 
visited  Naples  in  hopes  of  rendering  the  resources  of  chemistry 
available  towards  deciphering  these  long-lost  literary  treasures. 
His  expectations,  however,  were  not  fully  crowned  with  success, 
although  the  partial  efficacy  of  his  methods  was  established ;  and 
he  relinquished  the  pursuit  at  the  end  of  six  months,  partly  from 
disappointment,  partly  from  a  belief  that  vexatious  obstacles  were 
thrown  in  his  way  by  the  jealousy  of  the  persons  to  whom  the 
task  of  unrolling  had  been  intrusted.  About  five  hundred  vol- 
umes have  been  well  and  neatly  unrolled.  It  is  rather  remarkable 
that,  as  far  as  we  are  acquainted,  no  manuscript  of  any  known 
standard  work  has  been  found,  nor,  indeed,  any  production  of  any 
of  the  great  luminaries  of  the  ancient  world. 

The  most  celebrated  person,  of  whom  any  work  has  been 
found,  is  Epicurus,  whose  treatise,  De  Natura^  has  been  success- 
fully unrolled.  This  and  a  few  other  treatises  have  been  published. 
The  library  in  which  this  was  found  appears  to  have  been  rich  in 
treatises  on  the  Epicurean  philosophy.  The  only  Latin  work 
which  it  contained  was  a  poem,  attributed  to  Rabirius,  on  the 
war  of  Caesar  and  Antony. 

A  curious  literary  monument  has  been  found   in   the   shape 


286  DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 

of  a  calendar.  It  is  cut  on  a  square  block  of  marble,  upon  each 
side  of  which  three  months  are  registered  in  perpendicular  col- 
umns, each  headed  by  the  proper  sign  of  the  zodiac.  The  infor- 
mation given  may  be  classed  under  three  heads,  astronomical, 
agricultural,  and  religious.  The  first  begins  with  the  name  of 
the  month;  then  follows  the  number  of  da3^s;  then  the  nones, 
which  in  eight  months  of  the  year  fall  on  the  fifth  day,  and  were 
thence  called  quintanse — in  the  others  on  the  seventh,  and  were, 
therefore,  called  septimanse.  The  ides  are  not  mentioned,  because 
seven  days  always  elapsed  between  them  and  the  nones.  The 
number  of  hours  in  the  day  and  night  is  also  given,  the  integral 
part  being  given  by  the  usual  numerals,  the  fractional  by  an  S  for 
semissis,  the  half,  and  by  small  horizontal  lines  for  the  quarters. 
Lastly,  the  sign  of  the  zodiac  in  which  the  sun  is  to  be  found  is 
named,  and  the  days  of  the  equinoxes  and  of  the  summer  solstice 
are  determined ;  for  the  winter  solstice  we  read,  Hiemis  initium^ 
the  beginning  of  winter.  Next  the  calendar  proceeds  to  the  agri- 
cultural portion,  in  which  the  farmer  is  reminded  of  the  principal 
operations  which  are  to  be  done  within  the  month.  It  concludes 
with  the  religious  part,  in  which,  besides  indicating  the  god  under 
whose  guardianship  the  month  is  placed,  it  notes  the  religious 
festivals  which  fall  within  it,  and  warns  the  cultivator  against 
neglecting  the  worship  of  those  deities  upon  whose  favor  and 
protection  the  success  of  his  labors  is  supposed  mainly  to  depend. 
No  articles  of  ancient  manufacture  are  more  common  than 
lamps.  They  are  found  in  every  variety  of  form  and  size,  in 
clay  and  in  metal,  from  the  cheapest  to  the  most  costly  descrip- 
tion. A  large  and  handsome  gold  lamp  found  at  Pompeii  in  1863 
may  be  seen  in  the  Pompeian  room  at  the  museum  in  Naples. 
Wc  have  the  testimony  of  the  celebrated  antiquary,  Winkleman, 
to  the  interest  of  this  subject.  "  I  place  among  the  most  curious 
utensils  found  at  Herculaneum,  the  lamps,  in  which  the  ancients 
sought  to   display  elegance   and   even  magnificence.     Lamps  of 


CURIOUS    LAMPS. 


287 


every  sort  will  be  found  in  the  museum  at  Portici,  both  in  clay 
and  bronze,  but  especially  the  latter;  and  as  the  ornaments  of  the 
ancients  have  generally  some  reference  to  some  particular  thino-s 
we  often  meet  with  rather  remarkable  subjects.  A  considerable 
number  of  these  articles  will  be  found  in  the  British  INIuseum, 
but    they    are  chiefly  of  the   commoner   sort.     All  the  works, 

however,  descriptive  of  Herculaneum 
and  Pompeii,  present  us  with  specimens 
of  the  richer  and  more  remarkable  class 
which  attract  admiration  both  by  the 
beauty  of  the  workmanship  and  the 
whimsical  variety  of  their  designs.  We 
may  enumerate  a  few  which  occur  in  a 
work  now  before  us,  'Antiquites  d'Her- 
culanum,'    in  which   we  find   a    Silenus, 

with  the  usual 
peculiarities  of 
figure  ascribed 
'  to  the  jolly  god 
rather  e  x  a  g- 
gerated,  and  an 
owl   sitting  on 

GOLD  LAMP.     {Found  at  Pompeii.)  i-        hepr]       be- 

tween two  huge  horns,  which  support  stands  for  lamps.  Another 
represents  a  flower-stalk  growing  out  of  a  circular  plinth, 
with  snail-shells  hanging  from  it  by  small  chains,  which  held 
the  oil  and  wick;  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  with  lamps  suspended 
from  the  branches;  another,  a  naked  boy,  beautifull}^  wrought, 
with  a  lamp  hanging  from  one  hand,  and  an  instrument  for 
trimming  it  from  the  other,  the  lamp  itself  representing  a 
theatrical  mask.  Beside  him  is  a  twisted  column  surmounted 
by  the  head  of  a  Faun  or  Bacchanal,  which  has  a  lid  in 
its  crown,  and  seems  intended  as  a  reservoir  of  oil.     The  bo}^ 


288  DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 

and  pillar  are  both  placed  on  a  square  plateau  raised  upon  lions' 
claws.  But  beautiful  as  these  lamps  are,  the  light  which  they 
gave  must  have  been  weak  and  unsteady,  and  little  superior  to 
that  of  the  old-fashioned  common  lamps,  with  which  they  are 
identical  in  principle.  The  wick  was  merely  a  few  twisted 
threads  drawn  through  a  hole  in  the  upper  surface  of  the  oil  ves- 
sel, and  there  was  no  glass  to  steady  the  light  and  prevent  its 
varying  with  every  breeze  that  blew. 

"Still,  though  the  Romans  had  not  advanced  so  far  in  art  as 
to  apply  glass  chimneys  and  hollow  circular  wicks  to  their  lamps, 
they  had  experienced  the  inconvenience  of  going  home  at  night 
through  a  city  poorly  paved,  watched  and  lighted,  and  accord- 
ingly soon  invented  lanterns  to  meet  the  want.  These,  we  learn 
from  Martial,  who  has  several  epigrams  upon  this  subject,  were 
made  of  horn  or  bladder:  no  mention,  we  believe,  occurs  of  glass 
being  thus  employed.  The  rich  were  preceded  by  a  slave  bear- 
ing their  lantern.  This  Cicero  mentions  as  being  the  habit  of 
Catiline  upon  his  midnight  expeditions;  and  when  M.  Antony 
was  accused  of  a  disgraceful  intrigue,  his  lantern-bearer  was  tor- 
tured to  extort  a  confession  whither  he  had  conducted  his  mas- 
ter. One  of  these  machines,  of  considerable  ingenuity  and 
beauty  of  workmanship,  was  found  in  Herculaneum,  and  another 
almost  exactly  the  same,  at  Pompeii  a  few  years  after.  In  form 
it  is  cylindrical,  with  a  hemispherical  top,  and  it  is  made  of  sheet- 
copper,  except  the  two  main  pieces,  which  are  cast.  The  bottom 
consists  of  a  flat,  circular  copper  plate,  supported  by  three  balls, 
and  turned  up  all  around  the  rini,  from  which  rise  the  rectangular 
supports,  which  support  the  upper  part  of  the  frame.  The  top 
and  bottom  were  further  connected  by  the  interior  uprights,  be- 
tween which  the  laminae  of  horn  or  glass  were  placed,  and  secured 
at  the  top  and  bottom  by  the  doublings  of  the  copper.  Horn 
was  the  most  common  substance  used  to  transmit  the  light,  but 
bladder  and  other  membranes  were  also  employed.     In  the  centre 


THE    CANDELABRUM. 


2-89 


of  the  lantern  is  seen  the  small  lamp.  The  cover  is  hemispherical, 
and  lifts  up  and  down:  it  is  pierced  with  holes  for  the  admission 
of  air,  and  has  besides  the  characters  NBVRTI-CATIS  pricked 
upon  it.  These  have  been  interpreted,  Tiburti  Cati  Sum,  or  Ti- 
burti  Cati  S.  (ervus),  indicating,  the  one  that  it  belonged  to  Catus, 
or  that  it  was  to  be  carried  by  his  slave." 

One  of  the  most  elegant  articles  of  furniture  in  ancient  use 
was  the  candelabrum,  by  which  we  mean  those  tall  and  slender 
stands  which  ser- 
ved to  support  a 
lamp,  but  were 
independent  of, 
and  unconnected  with, 
it.  These,  in  their 
original  and  simple 
form,  were  mere  reeds 
or  straight  sticks,  fixed 
upon  a  foot  by  peas- 
ants to  raise  their  light 
to  a  convenient  height; 
at  least  such  a  theory 
of  their  origin  is  ag^ree- 
able  to  what  we  are 
told  of  the  rustic  man-  candelabra,  or  lamp  stands. 

ners  of  the  early  Romans,  and  it  is  in  some  degree  countenanced 
by  the  fashion  in  which  many  of  the  ancient  candelabra  are 
made.  Sometimes  the  stem  is  represented  as  throwing  out  buds; 
sometimes  it  is  a  stick,  the  side  branches  of  which  have  been 
roughly  lopped,  leaving  projections  where  they  grew;  some- 
times it  is  in  the  likeness  of  a  reed  or  cane,  the  stalk  being 
divided  into  joints.  Most  of  those  which  have  been  found  in 
the  buried  cities  are  of  bronze,  some  few  of  iron.  In  their 
general  plan  and  appearance  there  is  a  great  resemblance,  though 

19 


290 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


the  details  of  the  ornaments  admit  of  infinite  variety.  All  stand 
on  three  feet,  usually  griffins'  or  lions'  claws,  which  support  a 
light  shaft,  plain  or  fluted  according  to  the  fancy  of  the  maker. 
The  whole  supports  either  a  plinth  large  enough  for  a  lamp  to 
stand  on,  or  a  socket  to  receive  a  wax  candle,  which  the  Romans 
used  sometimes  instead  of  oil  in  lighting  their  rooms.  Some  of 
them  have  a  sliding  shaft,  like  that  of  a  music  stand,  by  which 
the  light  might  be  raised  or  lowered  at  pleasure. 

One  of  those  elegant  table  lamps,  by  the  praise  of  which 
the  present  discussion  was  introduced,  is  represented  in  the  ac- 
companying plate.  In- 
cluding the  stand  it  is 
three  feet  high.  On  a 
rectangular  plinth  rises 
a  rectangular  pillar, 
crowned  by  a  capri- 
cious capital.  On  the 
front  of  the  pillar  is  a 
mask  of  a  Bacchante, 
with  fine  features  and 
long  flowing  hair;  and 
on  the  opposite  side, 
the  head  of  a  bull,  with 
the  Greek  word  Bu- 
cranion.        From     the 

CANDELABRA,   OR   LAMP   STANDS.  CXtrCmC     polutS     of   thC 

abacus,  four  ornamental  branches,  beautifully  chased,  project;  the 
lamps  which  now  hang  from  them,  though  ancient,  also,  are  not 
those  which  belong  to  the  stand,  and  were  not  found  with  it. 
They  are  nearly  alike  in  figure,  but  differ  in  size.  Three  of  them 
are  ornamented  with  various  animals,  the  fourth  is  plain.  One 
of  them  has  each  of  its  ends  wrought  into  the  form  of  a  shell. 
Above  are  two  eagles  in  high  relief,  with  the  thunderbolt  of  Jup 


CANDELABRA. 


291 


iter  in  their  talons.  Another  has  two  bulls'  heads,  a  third  two 
elephants'  heads  projecting  from  the  sides.  The  latter  is  sus- 
pended by  two  dolphins,  instead  of  the  chains  generally  in  use, 
whose  tails  are  united,  and  attached  to  a  small  ball  and  ring.  The 
pillar  is  not  placed  in  the  center,  but  at  one  end  of  the  plinth, 
which  is  the  case  in  almost  every  lamp  of  this  description  yet 
found.  The  space  thus  obtained  may  have  served  as  a  stand  for 
the  oil  vase  used  in  trimming  the  lamps.  The  plinth  is  beautifully 
damasked,  or  inlaid,  in  imitation  of  a  vine,  the  leaves  of  which  are 
of  silver,  the  stem  and  fruit  of  bright  brass.  On  one  side  is  an 
altar  with  wood  and  fire  upon  it;  on  the  other  a  Bacchus,  naked, 
with  his  thick  hair  plaited  and  bound  with  ivy.  He  rides  a  tiger, 
and  has  his  left  hand  in  the  attitude  of  holding  reins,  which  time 
probably  has  destroyed;  with  the  right  he  raises  a  drinking-horn. 
The  workmanship  of  this  lamp  is  exquisitely  delicate  in  all  its 
parts. 

Before  we  quit  this  subject  we  have  still  one  candelabrum  to 
notice,  which  for  simplicity  of  design  and  delicacy  of  execution 
is  hardly  to  be  surpassed  by  any  in  the  Neapolitan  collection. 
The  stem  is  formed  of  a  liliaceous  plant,  divided  into  two 
branches,  each  of  which  supports  a  flat  disc,  which  may  represent 
the  flower,  upon  which  a  lamp  was  placed.  At  the  base  is  a 
mass  of  bronze  which  gives  stability  to  the  whole,  upon  which  a 
Silenus  is  seated,  earnestly  engaged  in  trying  to  pour  wine  from  a 
skin  which  he  holds  in  his  left  hand  into  a  cup  in  his  right.  In 
this  figure  all  the  distinctive  marks  of  the  companion  and  tutoi 
of  Bacchus  are  expressed  with  great  skill;  the  pointed  ears,  the 
goat's  tail,  the  shaggy  skin,  the  flat  nose,  and  the  ample  rotundity 
of  body,  leave  no  doubt  on  our  minds  as  to  the  person  intended 
to  be  represented.  The  head,  especiall}',  is  admirable,  both  in  re- 
spect of  workmanship  and  expression. 

Amongst  Greek  domestic  utensils  we  also  count  articles  made 
of  basket-work,  which  frequently  occur  in  antique  pictures.   The 


292 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


kalathos,  the  basket  for  keeping  wool  (used  for  weaving  and  em- 
broidering), and  also  flowers  and  fruit,  is  frequently  met  with  in 
vase  paintings  illustrating  the  life  of  Greek  women.  As  early  as 
Homer's  time  baskets,  probably  round  or  oval,  were  used, at 
meals,  to  keep  bread  and  pastry  in.  They  had  a  low  rim  and 
handles.  The  kaneon  was  also  used  at  oflferings,  where  it  is  filled 
with  pomegranates,  holly  boughs  and  ribbons.  At  the  Panathenaia 
noble  Athenian  maidens  carried  such  baskets,  filled  with  holy 
cakes,  incense,  and  knives  on  their  heads.  These  graceful  figures 
were  a  favorite  subject  of  antique  sculpture.  Both  Polyklete  and 
Skopas  had  done  a  celebrated  kanephore — the  former  in  bronze, 
the  latter  in  marble.  There  was  also  a  flat  basket,  chiefly 
used  for  carrying  fish,  similar  to  that  used  at  the  present  day 
by  fishermen  in  the  south.  Other  baskets  used  by  peasants  ap- 
pear frequently  in  antique  pictures,  in  the  original  carried  by  a 
peasant  on  a  stick  over  his  shoulder,  together  with  another  basket 
of  the  same  pear-like  shape,  taken  from  a  bas-relief  represent- 
ing a  vintage,  in  which  the  former  appears  filled  with  grapes, 
while  the  latter  is  being  filled  with  must  by  a  boy.  This  proves, 
at  the  same  time,  the  knowledge  amongst  the  Greeks  of  the  art 
of  making  the  basket-work  dense  enough  to  hold  fluids.  The 
same  fact  is  shown  by  a  passage  in  Homer,  in  which  Polyphemos 
lets  the  milk  coagulate  to  cheese  in  baskets,  which  cheese  was 
afterwards  placed  on  a  hurdle  through  which  the  whey  trickled 
slowly.  Of  plaited  rushes,  or  twigs,  consisted  also  a  peculiar 
kind  of  net,  a  specimen  of  which  is  seen  on  the  reverse  of  a  medal 
coined  under  the  Emperor  Macrinus,  as  the  emblem  of  the  mar- 
atime  city  of  Byzantium. 

To  light  and  heat  the  room,  in  Homer's  time,  fire-baskets, 
or  fire-basins  were  used,  standing  on  high  poles,  and  fed  with  dry 
logs  of  wood  or  splinters.  The  cinders  were,  at  intervals,  re- 
moved by  serving-maids,  and  the  flames  replenished.  Such  fire- 
baskets  on   poles   are  still  used   by  night-travelers   in   Southern 


OIL-LAMPS. 


293 


Russia,  and  at  nightly  ceremonies  in  India.  The  use  of  pine- 
torches  is  of  equal  antiquity.  They  consisted  of  long,  thin  sticks 
of  pine-wood,  tied  together  with  bark,  rushes  or  papyrus.  The 
bark  of  the  vine  was  also  used  for  torches,  called  lophis.  The 
golden  statues  on  pedestals,  in  the  hall  of  Alkinoos, 
undoubtedly  held  such  torches  in  their  hands.  In 
\j)  vase  paintings  we  also  see  a  different  form  of  the 
torch,  carried  chiefly  by  Demeter  and  Perseph- 
one, which  consists  of  two  pieces  of  wood  fastened 
crosswise  to  a  staft'.  An  imitation  of  this  wooden 
torch  was  undoubtedly  the  torch-case  made  of  clay 
or  metal  in  the  shape  of  a  salpinx.  Its  surface 
was  either  smooth  or  formed  in  imitation  of  the 
bundles  of  sticks  and  the  bark  of  the  wooden 
torch,  the  inside  being  filled  with  resinous  sub- 
stances. 

The  date  of  oil-lamps  in  Greece  can 
not  be  stated  with  accuracy;  they  were 
known  at  the  time  of  Aristophanes.  They 
were  made  of  terra-cotta  or  metal,  and  their  construction  re- 
sembles those 
used  by  the 
Romans.  They 
are  mostly 
closed  semi- 
globes  with  two 
openings,  one, 
in  the  centre, 
to  pour  the   oil 

in,  the  other  in  the  nose-shaped  prolongation  destined  to  receive 
the  wick.  Amongst  the  small  numbers  of  Greek  lamps  preserved 
to  us  we  have  chosen  a  few  of  the  most  graceful  specimens,  one 
of  them  showing  the  ordinary  form  of  the  lamp.     Some  are  made 


ANCIENT   LAMPS. 


2Q1  DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 

of  clay,  the  latter  being  painted  in  various  colors.  The  Athe- 
nians also  used  lanterns  made  of  transparent  horn,  and  lit  up 
witli  oil-lamps.  They  were  carried  at  night  in  the  streets  like 
the  torches.  Sparks,  carefully  preserved  under  the  ashes,  served 
both  Greeks  and  Romans  to  light  the  fire.  The  ancients  had, 
however,  a  lighting  apparatus  consisting  of  two  pieces  ol 
wood,  of  which  the  one  was  driven  into  the  other,  like  a  gim- 
let, the  friction  effecting  a  -flame.  According  to  Theophrast, 
the  wood  of  nut  or  chestnut  trees  was  generally  used    for  the 

purpose. 

The  street  running  from  the  Temple  of  Fortune  to  the 
Forum,  called  the  Street  of  the  Forum,  in  Pompeii,  and  forming 
a  continuation  of  that  of  Mercury,  has  furnished  an  unusually 
rich  harvest  of  various  utensils.  A  long  list  of  these  is  given  by 
Sir  W.  Gell,  according  to  which  there  were  found  no  less  than 
two  hundred  and  fifty  small  bottles  of  inferior  glass,  with  nu- 
merous other  articles  of  the  same  material,  which  it  would  be 
tedious  to  particularize. 

A  marble  statue  of  a  laughing  faun,  two  bronze  figures  of 
Mercury,  the  one  three  inches  and  the  other  four  inches  high, 
and  a  statue  of  a  Icmale  nine  inches  high,  were  also  found,  to- 
gether with  many  bronze  lamps  and  stands.  We  may  add  vases, 
basins  with  handles,  paterae,  bells,  elastic  springs,  hinges,  buckles 
for  harness,  a  lock,  an  inkstand,  and  a  strigil ;  gold  ear-rings  and 
a  silver  spoon ;  an  oval  cauldron,  a  saucepan,  a  mould  for  pastry, 
and  a  weight  of  alabaster  used  in  spinning,  with  its  ivory  axis  re- 
maining. The  catalogue  finishes  with  a  leaden  weight,  forty- 
nine  lamps  of  common  clay  ornamented  with  masks  and  animals, 
forty -five  lamps  for  two  wicks,  three  boxes  with  a  slit  to  keep 
money  in,  in  one  of  which  were  found  thirteen  coins  of  Titus, 
Vespasian,  and  Domitian.  Among  the  most  curious  things  dis- 
covered, were  seven  glazed  plates  found  packed  in  straw.  There 
were  also  seventeen  unvarnished  vases  of  terra-cotta  and  seven 


THE    STEELYARD. 


295 


clay  dishes,  and  a  large  pestle  and  mortar.  The  scales  and  steel- 
yard which  we  have  given  are  said  to  have  been  found  at  the 
same  time.  On  the  beam  of  the  steelyard  are  Roman  numerals 
from  X.  to  XXXX. ;  a  V  was  placed  for  division  between  each 
X.;  smaller  divisions  are  also  marked.     The  inscription  is 

IMP.  VESP.   AVG.  IIX. 
T.  IMP.  AVG.   F.   VI.  C. 
EXACTA.  IN.   CAPITO. 

which  is  translated  thus:  "  In  the  eighth  consulate  of  Vespasian 
Emperor  Augustus,  and  in  the  sixth  of  Titus,  Emperor  and  son 
of  Augustus.  Proved  in  the  Capitol."  This  shows  the  great 
care  taken  to  enforce  a  strict  uniformity  in  the 
-^  weights  and  measures  used  throughout  the  em- 
pire; the  date  corresponds  with  the  year  77  of 
our  era,  only  t\v^o  years  previous  to  the  great 
eruption.  The  steelyard  found  was  also  furnished 
with  chains  and  hooks,  and  with  numbers  up  to 
XXX.  Another  pair  of  scales  had  two  cups^ 
with  a  weight  on  the  side  opposite  to  the  material 
weighed,  to  mark  more  accurately  the  fractional 
weight;  this  weight  was  called  by  the  ancients 
ligula,  and  examen. 
Gell  tells  us  that  the  skeleton  of  a  Pompeian  was  found  here, 
"  who  apparently,  for  the  sake  of  sixty  coins,  a  small  plate  and  a 
saucepan  of  silver,  had  remained  in  his  house  till  the  street  was 
already  half  filled  with  volcanic  matter."  He  was  found  as  if  in 
the  act  of  escaping  from  his  window.  Two  others  were  found 
in  the  same  street. 

The  shops  in  the  street  on  the  north  side  of  the  Temple  of 
Augustus  most  probably  supplied  those  who  feasted  with  dain- 
ties; and  it  has  been  called  the  Street  of  Dried  Fruits,  from  the 
quantity  of  raisins,  figs,  plums,  and  chestnuts,  fruit  of  several  sorts 
preserved   in   vases  of  glass,  hempseed,  and   lentils.     It   is  now, 


296 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


however,  more  generally  known  as  the  Street  of  the  Augustals. 
Scales,  money,  moulds  for  pastry  and  bread,  were  discovered  in 
the  shops;  and  a  bronze  statue  of  Fame,  small,  and  delicately 
executed,  having  golden  bracelets  round  the  arms. 

In  the  northern  entrance  to  the  building  the  name  CELSVM 
was  written  on  a  pilaster;  near  it  was  found  in  a  box  a  gold 
ring  with  an  engraved  stone  set  in  it,  forty-one  silver,  and  a 
thousand  and  thirty-six  brass  coins. 

The  next  group  of  vessels,  though  nearly  destitute  of  orna- 
ment, and  probably  of  a  very  ordinary  class,  will  serve  to  give 
us  some  idea  of  the  cooking  vessels  of  the  Romans.  One  of  the 
most  celebrated  vases  in  the  Neapolitan  collection  was  found  with 
a  bronze  simpulum  in  it;  and  upon  the  vase  itself  there  was  a 
sacrificial  painting,  representing  a  priest  in  the  act  of  pouring  out 
a  libation  from  a  vase  with  the  simpulum. 

Pottery  in  ancient  times  was  usually  much  more  ornamental 
than  at  present,  although  it  was  often  the  case  that  their  ornaments 
were  rather  an  inconvenience,  and  would  simply  encumber  the  ves- 
sels; in  our  practical  age  more  importance  is  placed  in  the  con- 
venience and  utility  than  in  beauty.  Even  their  common  ves- 
sels are  not  without  a  certain  degree  of  elegance,  both  in  form 
and  workmanship. 

Great  numbers  of  clay 
vases  have  been  found,  of 
which  the  following  is  a 
very  beautiful  specimen. 
The  lip  and  base  have 
the  favorite  ovolo  mould- 
ing ;  the  body  has  two 
rows  of  fluting  separated 
by  a  transverse  band, 
charged  with  leaves,  and  witli  a  swan  in  the  centre.  The  neck 
01   the  vase   is   painted,  and    the   same  subject  is  given  on  each 


viiissELS.     {From  Pompeii.) 


DRINKING    VESSELS. 


297 


side.  It  represents  a  chariot,  drawn  by  four  animals  at  full  gallop, 
which  appear  to  be  intermediate  between  tigers  and  panthers. 
A  winged  genius  directs  them  with  his  left  hand,  while  with  his 
right  he  goads  them  with  a  javelin. 

Another  winged  figure  preceding  the  quadriga,  with  a  thyrsus 
in  his  left  hand,  is  in  the  act  of  seizing  the  bridle  of  one  of  the  ani- 
mals. The  whole  is  painted  in  white  on  a  black  ground,  except 
some  few  of  the  details,  which  are  yellow,  and  the  car  and  mantle 
of  the  genius,  which  are  red.  The  handles  represent  knotted 
cords,  or  flexible  branches  interlaced,  which  terminate  in  the 
heads  of  animals.  This  vase  is  much  cracked,  probably  in  con- 
sequence of  the  violence  of  the  fire. 

gu0j/itiinmn\\\\\\w.v^  Somc  drinking  vessels   of  peculiar  con- 

struction have  been  found,  which  merit  a 
particular  description.  These  were  in  the 
shape  of  a  horn,  the  primitive  drinking- 
vessel,  and  had  commonly  a  hole  at  the 
point,  to  be  closed  with  the  finger,  until  the 
drinker,  raising  it  above  his  mouth,  suffered 
the  liquor  to  flow  in  a  stream  from  the 
orifice. 

This  method  of  drinking,  which  is  still 
practiced  in  some  parts  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean, must  require  great  skill  in  order  to 
hit  the  mark  exactly.  Sometimes  the  hole 
at  the  tip  was  closed,  and  one  or  two  handles  fitted  to  the  side, 
and  then  the  base  formed  the  mouth ;  and  sometimes  the  whim- 
sical fancy  of  the  potter  fashioned  it  into  the  head  of  a  pig,  a 
stag,  or  any  other  animal.  One  in  the  Neapolitan  Museum 
has  the    head   of  an  eagle  with  the  ears  of  a  man. 

These  vases  are  usually  of  clay,  but  cheap  as  is  the  material, 
it  is  evident  by  their  good  workmanship  that  they  were  not 
made  by  the  lowest  artists. 


DRINKING  VESSEL. 


2o8  DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 

The  learned  seem  to  have  been  generally  mistaken  on  the 
subject  of  glass-making  among  the  ancients,  who  appear  to  have 
been  far  more  skillful  than  had  been  imagined.  The  vast  col- 
lection of  bottles,  vases,  glasses,  and  other  utensils,  discovered 
at  Pompeii,  is  sufficient  to  show  that  the  ancients  were  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  art  of  glass-blowing. 

There  is  no  doubt  but  that  the  Romans  possessed  glass  in 
sufficient  plenty  to  apply  it  to  purposes  of  household  ornament. 
The  raw  material  appears  from  Pliny's  account  to  have  under- 
gone two  fusions;  the  first  converted  it  into  a  rough  mass  called 
ammonitrum,  which  was  melted  again  and  became  pure  glass. 
We  are  also  told  of  a  dark-colored  glass  resembling  obsidian^ 
plentiful  enough  to  be  cast  into  solid  statues. 

Pliny  mentions  having  seen  images  of  Augustus  cast  in  this 
substance.  It  probably  was  some  coarse  kird  of  glass  resembling 
the  ammonitrum,  or  such  as  that  in  which  the  scoriae  of  our  iron 
furnaces  abound.  Glass  was  worked  either  by  blowing  it  with  a 
pipe,  as  is  now  practiced,  by  turning  in  a  lathe,  by  engraving  and 
carving  it,  or,  as  we  have  noticed,  by  casting  it  in  a  mould. 

The  ancients  had  certainly  acquired  great  skill  in  the  manu- 
facture, as  appears  both  from  the  accounts  which  have  been  pre- 
served by  ancient  authors,  and  by  the  specimens  which  still  exist 
— among  which  we  may  notice,  as  pre-eminently  beautiful,  that 
torment  of  antiquaries,  the  Portland  vase,  preserved  in  the  Brit- 
ish Museum.  We  have  already  adverted  to  another  vase  of  the 
same  kind,  and  of  almost  equal  beaut}^,  found  in  one  of  the  ton"kbs 
near  the  Gate  of  Herculaneum. 

A  remarkable  stor\'  is  told  by  Dion  Cassius,  of  a  man  who, 
in  the  time  of  the  Emperor  Tiberius,  brought  a  glass  cup  into 
the  imperial  presence  and  dashed  it  on  the  ground.  To  the 
wonder  of  the  spectators,  the  vessel  bent  under  the  blow  without 
breaking,  and  the  ingenious  artist  immediately  hammered  out  the 
bruise,  and    restored  it  whole  and  sound  to  its    original  form; 


COLORED    GLASS.  200 

in    return  for  which  display  of  his    skill,   Tiberius,  it    is    said 
ordered  him  to  be  immediately  put  to  death. 

The  story  is  a  strange  one,  yet  it  is  confirmed  by  Pliny,  who 
both  mentions  the  discovery  itself,  and  gives  a  clue  to  the  motives 
which  may  have  urged  the  emperor  to  a  cruelty  apparently  so 
unprovoked.  He  speaks  of  an  artificer  who  had  invented  a 
method  of  making  flexible  glass,  and  adds  that  Tiberius  ban- 
ished him,  lest  this  new  fashion  should  injure  the  workers  in 
metal,  of  whose  trade  the  manufacture  of  gold,  silv^er,  and  other 
drinking-cups,  and  furniture  for  the  table,  formed  an  extensive 
and  important  branch. 

The  Romans  were  also  well  acquainted  with  the  art  of  col- 
oring glass,  as  appears,  among  other  proofs,  from  the  glass 
mosaics,  of  which  mention  has  been  made.  Pliny  speaks  of  a 
blood-red  sort,  called  hsematinum,  from  blood,  of  white  glass, 
blue  glass,  etc.  The  most  valuable  sort,  however,  was  the  color- 
less crystal  glass,  for  two  cups  of  which,  with  handles  on  each 
side,  Nero  gave  6,000  sesterces,  about  $240. 

Under  this  head  we  may  speak  of  the  vases  called  murrhina^ 
since  one  theory  respecting  them  is,  that  they  were  made  of 
variegated  glass.  Their  nature,  however,  is  doubtful;  not  so 
their  value.  Pliny  speaks  of  70  talents  being  given  for  one  hold- 
ing three  sextarii,  about  four  and  a  half  pints.  Titus  Petronius  on 
his  death-bed  defrauded  the  avarice  of  Nero,  who  had  compelled 
him,  by  a  common  piece  of  tyranny,  to  appoint  the  crown  his 
heir  by  breaking  a  murrhin'e  truUa,  or  flat  bowl,  worth  300  tal- 
ents. Nero  himself,  as  became  a  prince,  outdid  all  by  giving  100 
talents  for  a  single  capis,  or  drinking-cup,  "  a  memorable  circum- 
stance, that  an  emperor,  and  father  of  his  country,  should  have 
drunk  at  so  dear  a  rate."  Pliny's  description  of  this  substance 
runs  thus  : 

"It  is  to  be  noticed  that  we  have  these  rich  cassidoin  vessels 
(called  in  Latin  murrhina)  from  the  East,  and  that  from  places 


300  DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 

Otherwise  not  greatly  renowned,  but  most  within  the  kingdom  of 
Parthia;  howbeit  the  prineipal  come  from  Carmania.  The  stone 
whereof  these  vessels  are  made  is  thought  to  be  a  certain  humor, 
thickened  as  it  were  in  the  earth  by  heat.  In  no  place  are  these 
stones  found  larger  than  small  tablcments  of  pillars  or  the  like, 
and  seldom  were  they  so  thick  as  to  serve  for  such  a  drinking- 
cup  as  I  have  spoken  of  alread}\  Resplendent  are  they  in  some 
sort,  but  it  mav  rather  be  termed  a  gloss  than  a  radiant  and  trans- 
parent clearness;  but  that  which  maketh  them  so  much  esteemed 
is  the  variety  of  colors,  for  in  these  stones  a  man  shall  perceive 
certain  veins  or  spots,  which,  as  they  be  turned  about,  resemble 
divers  colors,  inclining  partly  to  purple  and  partly  to  white:  he 
shall  see  them  also  of  a  third  color  composed  of  them  both,  re- 
sembling the  flame  of  fire.  Thus  they  pass  from  one  to  another 
as  a  man  holdeth  them,  insomuch  as  their  purple  seemeth  near 
akin  to  white,  and  their  milky  white  to  bear  as  much  on  the  pur- 
ple. Some  esteem  those  cassidoin  or  murrhine  stones,  the  richest, 
which  present  as  it  were  certain  reverberations  of  certain  colors 
meeting  altogether  about  their  edges  and  extremities,  such  as  we 
observe  in  rainbows;  others  are  delighted  with  certain  fatty  spots 
appearing  in  them;  and  no  account  is  made  of  them  w^hich  show 
either  pale  or  transparent  in  any  part  of  them,  for  these  he  reck- 
oned great  faults  and  blemishes;  in  like  manner  if  there  be  seen 
in  the  cassidoin  any  spots  like  corns  of  salts  or  warts,  for  then 
are  they  considered  apt  to  split.  Finally,  the  cassidoin  stones 
are  commended  in  some  sort  also  for  the  smell  that  they  do 
yield.'' 

On  these  words  of  Pliny  a  great  dispute  has  arisen.  Some 
think  that  onyx  is  the  material  described,  a  conjecture  founded  on 
the  variety  of  colors  which  that  stone  presents.  To  this  it  is  ob- 
jected, that  on}'x  and  murrha,  onyx  vases  and  murrhine  vases 
are  alike  mentioned  by  Latin  writers,  and  never  with  any  hint 
as  to  their  identity;  nay,  there  is  a  passage  in  which  Heliogabalus 


GLASS. 


301 


is  said  to  have  onyx  and  murrhine  vases  in  constant  use. 
Others,  as  we  have  said,  think  that  they  were  variegated  glass; 
others  that  they  were  the  true  Chinese  porcelain,  a  conjecture  in 
some  degree  strengthened  by  a  line  of  Propertius : 

"Murrheaq.  ia  Parthis  pocula  cocta  focis." 

At  the  same  time  this  quotation  is  not  so  conclusive  as  it  might 
have  been,  since  Pliny  speaks  of  murrha  as  "  hardened  in  the 
earth  by  heat,"  and  the  poet  may  only  have  meant  the  same 
thing,  though  the  expression  in  that  case  would  be  somewhat 
strained.  To  us,  Pliny's  description  appears  to  clearly  point  to 
some  opaline  substance;  the  precious  opal  has  never  in  modern 
times  been  found  in  masses  approaching  to  the  size  necessary  to 
make  vessels  such  as  we  have  spoken  of  The  question  is  not 
likely  to  be  settled,  and  it  is  not  improbable  that  the  material  of 
these  murrhine  vases  is  entirely  unknown  to  us,  as  the  quarries  of 
many  marbles  used  by  the  ancients  have  hitherto  eluded  our  re- 
search, and  the  marbles  themselves  are  only  known  by  their 
recurrence  amonsf  ancient  buildine^s. 

We  may  here  notice  one  or  two  facts  connected  with 
glass,  which  show  that  the  ancients  were  on  the  verge  of  making 
one  or  two  very  important  discoveries  in  physical  science.  They 
were  acquainted  with  the  power  of  transparent  spherical  bodies 
to  produce  heat  by  the  transmission  of  light,  though  not  with 
the  manner  in  which  that  heat  was  generated  by  the  concentra- 
tion of  the  solar  rays.  Pliny  mentions  the  fact  that  hollow  glass 
balls  filled  with  water  would,  when  held  opposite  to  the  sun,  grow 
hot  enough  to  burn  any  cloth  they  touched;  but  the  turn  of  his 
expression  evidently  leads  to  the  conclusion  that  he  believed  the 
heat  to  become  accumulated  in  the  glass  itself,  not  merely  to  be 
transmitted  through  it.  Seneca  speaks  of  similar  glass  balls, 
which  magnified  minute  objects  to  the  view.  Nay,  he  had  nearly 
stumbled  on  a  more  remarkable  discovery,  the  composition  of 
light,  for  he   mentions  the  possibility  of  producing  an    artificial 


302 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


rainbow  bv  the  use  of  an  angular  glass  rod.  At  a  far  earlier  pe- 
riod Aristophanes  speaks  of  "a  transparent  substance  used  to 
light  fires  with,"  usually  translated  glass.  The  passage  is  curi- 
ous, as  it  shows  a  perfect  acquaintance  with  the  use  of  the  burn- 


ing glass. 


investigate 


With  the  laws  of  reflection  the  ancients,  as  we  know  from 
the  performances  ascribed  to  Archimedes,  were  well  acquainted. 
It  is  singular  that   being   in  possession  of  such  remarkable  facts 

connected  with 
refraction,  they 
should  never 
have  proceeded 
to 
the    laws 


by 
which  it  is  gov- 
erned. 

The  first  ob- 
ject figured  /z, 
in  the  annexed 
block,  is  a  glass 
funnel,  mfiindi' 
bulum;    g^   is 

described  as  a  wine-strainer,  but  the  method  of  its  use  is  not 
altogether  clear.  The  bottom  is  slightly  concave,  and  pierced 
with  liolcs.  It  is  supposed  to  have  been  used  as  a  sort  of  tap, 
the  larger  part  being  placed  within  the  barrel,  and  the  wine 
drawn  ofi'  through  the  neck  or  spout,  which  is  broken.  Fig.  ?z, 
is  a  wine-taster,  something  on  the  principle  of  a  siphon.  It  is 
hollow,  and  the  air  being  exhausted  by  the  mouth  at  the  small 
end,  the  liquid  to  be  tasted  was  drawn  up  into  the  cavity. 
a  and  h,  wine-jars;  r,  two  small  wine-jars  in  a  glass  casket; 
</,  g,  /'and  ^,  goblets  or  drinking-glasses  of  toned  and  beautiful 
colored  glass;  i  and  w,  glass  dishes,  the  first  with  a  saucer. 


:';«iijfiif|i!!W|i;|iii|ffiii'jt.il 


|iiiiii|iiiiii|iiiii|ijiiiiaHi)i# 


ipa 


GLASS  VESSELS  {of  Pompeii). 


GLASS    VESSELS. 


303 


Another  sort  of  glass  strainer,  of  which  there  are  several  in 
the  Neapolitan  Museum,  is  made  of  bronze,  pierced  in  elegant 
and  intricate  patterns  as  seen  on  page  84.  The  Romans  used 
strainers  tilled  with  snow  to  cool  their  wines,  and  such  may  have 
been  the  destination  of  the  one  here  represented.  These  were 
called  cola  vinaria^  or  nivaria.  The  poor  used  a  linen  cloth 
for  the  same  purpose. 

With  respect  to  the  details  of  dress,  the  excavations,  whether 
at  Pompeii  or  Herculaneum,  enable  us  to  clear  up  no  difficulties, 
and  to  add  Httle  to  that  which  is  already  known  on  this  subject. 
Still  a  short  notice  of  the  principal  articles  of  dress,  and  ex- 
planation of  their  Latin  names,  may  be  expedient  for  the  full  un- 
derstanding of  some  parts  of  our  subject.  The  male  costume 
will  detain  us  a  very  short  time. 

The  proper  Roman  dress,  for  it  would  be  tiresome  and  un- 
profitable to  enter  upon  the  variety  of  garments  introduced  in 
later  times  from  foreign  nations,  consisted  merely  of  the  toga  and 
tunica,  the  latter  being  itself  an  innovation  on  the  simple  and 
hardy  habit  of  ancient  times.  It  was  a  woolen  vest,  for  it  was 
late  before  the  use  of  linen  was  introduced,  reaching  to  the  knees, 
and  at  first  made  without  sleeves,  which  were  considered  efTemi- 
nate;  but,  as  luxury  crept  in,  not  only  were  sleeves  used,  but  the 
number  of  tunics  was  increased  to  three  or  four.  The  tos^-a  was 
an  ample  semi-circular  garment,  also  without  sleeves.  It  is  de- 
scribed as  having  an  opening  large  enough  to  admit  the  head  and 
the  right  arm  and  shoulder,  which  were  left  exposed,  having  a 
sort  of  lappet,  or  flap  (lacinia),  which  was  brought  under  the 
right  arm  and  thrown  over  the  left  shoulder,  forming  the  simis^ 
or  bosom,  the  deep  folds  of  which  served  as  a  sort  of  pocket. 
This  is  the  common  description,  which,  we  confess,  conveys  no 
very  clear  notion  of  the  construction  or  appearance  of  the  dress. 
The  left  arm  was  entirely  covered,  or  if  exposed,  it  was  by 
gathering  up  the  lower  edge  of  the  ample  garment. 


304 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


The  female  dress  consisted  of  one  or  more  tunics,  with  an 
upper  garment,  called  stola^  which  superseded  the  toga,  origi- 
nally worn  by  women  as  well  as  men.  The  stola  is  said  to  have 
been  a  more  ample  and  ornamented  sort  of  tunic.  The  tunic 
worn  by  women  does  not  seem  to  have  differed  from  that  worn 
by  men,  except  that  it  reached  to  the  feet.  Above  the  stola, 
women  wore  a  mantle  called  palla  or  pallium.  This  is  said  to 
have  been  thrown  across  the  shoulders,  the  right  end  being 
gathered  up  and  thrown  over  the  left  shoulder,  leaving  nothing 
but  the  right  hand  visible. 

Some  minute  speculations  relative  to  one  article  in  female 
dress  have  been  based  on  a  statue  from  Herculaneum,  in  which 


a  Neapolitan  antiquary  thinks  that  he  has  discovered  the  nature 
and  construction  of  that  compound  garment  called  the  tunico- 
pallium,  in  which  the  appearance  and  uses  of  the  tunic  and  mantle 
were  united.  It  is  the  statue  of  a  woman  employed  in  buckling 
her  dress  over  the  right  shoulder,  having  already  fastened  it  on 
the  left,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  leave  the  arm  bare. 

Numerous  articles  of  female  ornament  have  been  found,  of 
which  we  have  collected  a  few  into  one  block.  They  are  drawn 
of  the  same  size  as  the  orig^inals.  The  lower  corners  of  the  cut 
represent  ear-rings,  seen  in  front  and  sideways.  It  is  a  portion 
of  a  plain  gold  spheroid,  very  thick,  with  a  metal  hook  at  the 
back  to  pass  through  the  ear.  The  next  is  of  simpler  construc- 
tion, having  pearl   pendants.     Both  these  patterns  seem  to  have 


ARTICLES    OF   JEWELRY. 


305 


been  very  common.  The  upper  right-hand  corner  of  the  cut 
represents  a  breast- 
pin, attached  to  a 
BacchanaHan  figure, 
with  a  patera  in  one 
hand  and  a  glass  in 
the  other.  He  is 
provided  with  bat's 
wings,  and  two  belts, 
or  bands  of  grapes, 
pass  across  his  body. 
The  bat's  wings  sym- 
bolize the  drowsiness 
consequent  upon  hard 
drinking.  There  are 
also  represented  gold 
rings  with  serpent's 
heads,  the  eyes  of 
which  are  inlaid  with 
beautiful  stones  and 
diamonds;  also  brace- 
lets of  this  pattern 
were  very  common. 

A  beautiful  gold 
necklace  was  also 
found,  of  which  a  cut  is  represented  in  the  above  plate.  It  was 
very  elaborate  and  exquisite.  Ornamental  safety-pins  were  also 
.found,  as  shown  in  following  cuts.  Lockets  were  also  found, 
indicating  religious  subjects  of  later  date. 

Small  toilet-boxes,  made  of  wood  or  ivory,  were  also  nu- 
merous; and,  like  the  vases,  of  many  different  forms;  and  some, 
which  contained  cosmetics  of  divers  kinds,  served  to  deck  the 
dressing    table,    or    a    lady's    boudoir.      They    were    carved    in 
20 


3o6 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


various  ways,  and  loaded  with  ornamental  devices  in  relief; 
sometimes  representing-  the  favorite  lotus  flower,  with  its  buds 
and  stalks,  a  goose,  gazelle,  fox,  or  other  animal.  Many  were 
of  considerable  length,  terminating  in  a  hollow  shell,  not  unlike 
a  spoon  in  shape  and  depth,  covered  with  a  lid  turning  on  a  pin; 
and  to  this,  which  may  properly  be  styled  the  box,  the  remain- 


ing part   was   merely  an   accessory,  intended  for  ornament,  or 
serving  as  a  handle. 

They  were  generally  of  sycamore  wood,  sometimes  of 
tamarisk,  or  of  acacia;  and  occasionally  ivory,  and  inlaid  work, 
were  substituted  for  wood.  To  many,  a  handle  of  less  dis- 
proportionate length  was  attached,  representing  the  usual  lotus 
hower,  a  figure,  a  Typhonian  monster,  an  animal,  a  bird,  a  fish, 
or  a  reptile;  and  the  box  itself,  whether  covered  with  a  lid  or 
open,  was  in  character  with  the  remaining  part.  Some  shallow 
ones  were  probably  intended  to  contain  small   portions  of  oint- 


TOILET-BOXES,    ETC. 


307 


ment,  taken  from  a  large  vase  at  the  time  it  was  wanted,  or  for 
other  purposes  connected  with  the  toilet,  where  greater  depth 
was  not  required;  and  in  many  instances  they  rather  resembled 
spoons  than  boxes. 

Many  were  made  in  the  form  of  a  royal  oval,  with  and  with- 
out a  handle;  and  the  body  of  a  wooden  fish  was  scooped  out 
and  closed  with  a  cover  imitating  the  scales,  to  deceive  the  eye 
by  the  appearance  of  a  solid  mass.  Sometimes  a  goose  was  rep- 
resented, ready  for  table,  or  swimming  on  the  water,  and  pluming 


itself;  the  head  being  the  handle  of  a  box  formed  of  its  hoi' 
low  body;  some  consisted  of  an  open  part  or  cup,  attached  to  a 
covered  box ;  others  of  different  shapes  offered  the  usual  variety 
of  fancy  devices,  and  some  were  without  covers,  which  may  come 
under  the  denomination  of  saucers.  Others  bore  the  precise  form 
and  character  of  a  box,  being  deeper  and  more  capacious;  and 
these  were  probably  used  for  holding  trinkets,  or  occasionally  as 
repositories  for  the  small  pots  of  ointment,  or  scented  oils,  and 
bottles  containing  the  collyrium,  which  women  applied  to  their 
eyes. 

Some  were  divided  into  separate  compartments,  covered  by 
a  common  lid,  either  sliding  in  a  groove,  or  turning  on  a  pin  at 


3o8 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


one  end;  and  many  of  still  larger  dimensions  sufficed  to  contain 
a  mirror,  combs,  and,  perhaps,  even  some  articles  of  dress.    • 

These  boxes  were  frequently  of  costly  materials,  veneered 
with  rare  woods,  or  made  of  ebony,  inlaid  with  ivory,  painted 
with  various  devices,  or  stained  to  imitate  materials  of  a  valuable 
nature;  and  the  mode  of  fastening  the  lid,  and  the  curious  substi- 
tute for  a  hino-e  given  to  some  of  them,  show  the  former  was  en- 
tirely removed,  and  that  the  box  remained  open,  while  used. 

Knobs  of  ebony,  or  other  hard  wood,  were  very  common. 
They  were  covered  with  great  care,  and   inlaid  with  ivory  and 


silver. 


Some  boxes  were  made  with  a  pointed  summit,  divided  into 
two  parts,  one  of  which  alone  opened,  turning  on  small  pivots  at 


the  base,  and  the  two  ends  of  the  box  resembled  in  form  the  gable 
ends,  as  the  top,  the  shelving  roof,  of  a  house.  The  sides  were, 
as  usual,  secured  by  glue  and  nails,  generally  of  wood,  and  dove- 
tailed, a  method  of  joining  adopted  in  Egypt  at  the  most  remote 
period;  but  the  description  of  these  belongs  more  properly  to 
cabinet  work,  as  those  employed  for  holding  the  combs,  and  simi- 
lar objects,  to  the  toilet. 

Some  vases  have  been  found  in  boxes,  made  of  wicker-work, 
closed  with  stoppers  of  wood,  reed,  or  other  materials,  supposed 
to  belong  either  to  a  lady's  toilet  or  to  a  medical  man;  one  of 
which,  now  in  the  Berlin  Museum,  has  been  already  noticed. 


]i^URNITUI^E. 


In  the  furniture  of  the  houses  the  Egyptians  displayed  con- 
siderable taste;  and  there,  as  elsewhere,  they  studiously  avoided 
too  much  regularity,  justly  considering  that  its  monotonous  effect 
fatigued  the  eye.  They  preferred  variety  both  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  rooms  and  in  the  character  of  their  furniture,  and 
neither  the  windows,  doors,  nor  wings  of  the  house,  exactly  cor- 
responded with  each  other.  An  Egyptian  would,  therefore,  have 
been  more  pleased  with  the  form  of  our  Elizabethan,  than  of  the 
box-shaped  rooms  of  later  times. 

In  their  mode  of  sitting  on  chairs  they  resembled  the  modern 
Europeans  rather  than  Asiatics,  neither  using,  like  the  latter,  soft 
divans^  nor  sitting  cross-legged  on  carpets.  Nor  did  they  recline 
at  meals,  as  the  Romans,  on  a  triclinium^  though  couches  and 
ottomans  formed  part  of  the  furniture  of  an  Egyptian.  When 
Joseph  entertained  his  brethren,  he  ordered  them  to  sit  according 
to  their  ages.  Egyptians  sometimes  sat  cross-legged  on  the 
ground,  on  mats  and  carpets,  or  knelt  on  one  or  both  knees; these 
were  rather  the  customs  for  certain  occasions,  and  of  the  poorer 
classes.  To  sit  on  their  heels  was  also  customary  as  a  token  of 
respect  in  the  presence  of  a  superior,  as  in  modern  Egypt;  and 
when  a  priest  bore  a  shrine  before  the  deity  he  assumed  this  posi- 
tion of  humility;  a  still  greater  respect  being  shown  by  prostra- 
tion, or  by  kneeling  and  kissing  the  ground.  But  the  house  of  a 
wealthy  person  was  always  furnished   with  chairs  and  couches. 

309 


3IO 


DOMESTIC     UTENSILS. 


Stools  and  low  seats  were  also  used,  the  seat  being  only  from  S 
to  14  inches  high,  and  of  wood,  or  interlaced  with  thongs;  these^ 
however,  may  be  considered  equivalent  to  our  rush-bottomed 
chairs,  and  probably  belonged  to  persons  of  humbler  means. 
The\'  varied  in  their  quality,  and  some  were  inlaid  with  ivory 
and  various  woods. 

Those  most  common  in  the  houses  of  the  rich  were  the  single 
and  double  chair  (answering  to  the  Greek  thronos  and  diphros)^ 
the  latter  sometimes  kept  as  a  family  seat,  and  occupied  by  the 
master  and  mistress  of  the  house,  or  a  married  couple.  It  was. 
not,  however,  always  reserved  exclusively  for  them,  nor  did  they 
invariably  occupy  the  same  seat;  they  sometimes  sat  like  their 
guests  on  separate  chairs,  and  a  diphros  was  occasionally  offered 
to  visitors,  both  men  and  women. 

Many  of  the  fauteuils  were  of  the  most  elegant  form.  They 
were  made  of  ebony  and  other  rare  woods,  inlaid  with  ivory,  and 
very  similar  to  some  now  used  in  Europe.  The  legs  w^re  mostly 
in  imitation  of  those  of  an  animal ;  and  lions'  heads,  or  the  entire 
body,  formed  the  arms  of  large  fauteuils,  as'  in  the  throne  of 
Solomon  (i  Kings,  x.  19).  Some,  again,  had  folding  legs,  like 
our  camp-stools;  the  seat  was  often  slightly  concave;  and  those 
in  the  royal  palace  were  ornamented  with  the  figures  of  captives, 
or  emblems  of  dominion  over  Egypt  and  other  countries.  The 
back  was  light  and  strong,  and  consisted  of  a  single  set  of  upright 
and  cross  bars,  or  of  a  frame  receding  gradually  and  terminating^ 
at  its  summit  in  a  graceful  curve,  supported  from  without  by  per- 
pendicular bars;  and  over  this  was  thrown  a  handsome  pillo\  of 
colored  cotton,  painted  leather,  or  gold  and  silver  tissue,  like  the 
beds  at  the  feast  of  Ahasuerus,  mentioned  in  Esther,  or  like  the 
feathered  cushions  covered  with  stuffs  and  embroidered  with  silk 
and  threads  of  gold  iii  the  palace  of  Scaurus. 

Seats  on  the  principle  of  our  camp-stools  seem  to  have  been 
much  in  vogue.      They  were  furnished  with  a  cushion,  or  were 


CHAIRS    AND    STOOLS. 


311 


covered  with  the  skin  of  a  leopard,  or  some  other  animal,  which 
was  removed  when  the  seat  was  folded  up;  and  it  was  not  un- 
usual to  make  even  head-stools,  or  wooden  pillows  on  the  same 
principle.  They  were  also  adorned  in  various  ways,  bound  with 
metal  plates,  and  inlaid  with  ivory,  or  foreign  woods;  and  the 
wood  of  common  chairs  was  often  painted  to  resemble  that  of  a 
rarer  and  more  valuable  kind. 

The  seats  of  chairs  were  frequently  of  leather,  painted  with 
flowers  and  fancy  devices;  of  interlaced  work  made  of  string  or 
thongs,  carefully  and  neatly  arranged,  which,  like  our  Indian  cane 
chairs,  were  particularly  adapted  for  a  hot  climate;  but  over  this 
the}'  occasionally  placed  a  leather  cushion,  painted  in  the  manner 
already  mentioned. 

The  forms  of  the  chairs  varied  ver}'  much ;  the  larger  ones 
generally  had  light  backs,  and  some  few  had  arms  They  were 
mostly  about  the  height  of  those  now  used  in  Europe,  the  seat 
nearly  in  a  line  with  the  bend  of  the  knee;  but  some  were  very 
low,  and  others  offered  that  variety  of  position  which  we  seek  in 
the  kangaroo  chairs  of  our  own  drawing-room.  The  ordinary 
fashion  of  the  legs  was  in  imitation  of  those  of  some  wild  animal, 
as  the  lion  or  the  goat,  but  more  usually  the  former,  the  foot 
raised  and  supported  on  a  short  pin;  and,  what  is  remarkable,  the 
skill  of  their  cabinet-makers,  even  before  the  time  of  Joseph,  had 
already  done  away  with  the  necessity  of  uniting  the  legs  with 
bars.  Stools,  however,  and  more  rarely  chairs,  were  occasion- 
ally made  with  these  strengthening  members,  as  is  still  the 
case  in  our  own  country;  but  the  drawing-room  fauteuil  and 
couch  were  not  disfigured  by  so  unseemly  and  so  unskillful  a 
support 

The  stools  used  in  the  saloon  were  of  the  same  style  and 
elegance  as  the  chairs,  frequently  differing  from  them  only  in  the 
absence  of  a  back;  and  those  of  more  delicate  workmanship 
were  made  of  ebony,  and  inlaid,  as  already  stated,  with  ivory  or 


312  DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 

rare  woods.  Some  of  an  ordinary  kind  had  solid  sides,  and  were 
generally  very  low;  and  others,  with  three  legs,  belonged  to  per- 
sons of  inferior  rank. 

The  ottomans  were  simple  square  sofas,  without  backs,  raised 
from  the  ground  nearly  to  the  same  level  as  the  chairs.  The 
upper  part  was  of  leather,  or  a  cotton  stuff,  richly  colored,  like 
the  cushions  of  the  fauteuils;  the  base  was  of  wood  painted  with 
various  devices;  and  those  in  the  royal  palace  were  ornamented 
with  the  figures  of  captives,  the  conquest  of  whose  country  was 
designated  by  their  having  this  humiliating  position.  The  same 
idea  gave  them  a  place  on  the  soles  of  sandals,  on  the  footstools 
of  a  royal  throne,  and  on  the  walls  of  the  palace  at  Medeenet 
Haboo,  in  Thebes,  where  their  heads  support  some  of  the  orna- 
mental details  of  the  building. 

Footstools  also  constituted  part  of  the  furniture  of  the  sitting- 
room;  they  were  made  with  solid  or  open  sides,  covered  at  the 
top  with  leather  or  interlaced  work,  and  varied  in  height  accord- 
ing to  circumstances,  some  being  of  the  usual  size  now  adopted 
by  us,  others  of  inconsiderable  thickness,  and  rather  resembling  a 
small  rug.  Carpets,  indeed,  were  a  very  early  invention,  and 
they  are  often  represented  sitting  upon  them,  as  well  as  on  mats, 
which  are  commonly  used  in  their  sitting-rooms,  as  at  the  present 
day,  and  remnants  of  them  have  been  found  in  the  Theban 
tombs. 

Their  couches  evinced  no  less  taste  than  the  fauteuils.  They 
were  of  wood,  with  one  end  raised,  and  receding  in  a  graceful 
curve;  and  the  feet,  as  in  many  of  the  chairs,  alread}^  described, 
were  fashioned  to  resemble  those  of  some  wild  animal. 

Egypti-;..i  tables  were  round,  square,  or  oblong;  the  former 
were  generally  used  during  their  repasts,  and  consisted  of  a  cir- 
cular flat  summit,  supported  like  the  monopodinni  of  the  Romans, 
on  a  single  shaft,  or  leg,  in  the  centre,  or  by  the  figure  of  a  man, 
intended  to  represent  a  captive.     Large  tables  had  usually  three 


BED-ROOM    FURNITURE.  ojo 

or  four  legs,  but  some  were  made  with  solid  sides;  and  thouo-h 
generally  of  wood,  many  were  of  metal  or  stone;  and  they  va- 
ried in  size,  according  to  the  purposes  for  which  they  were  in- 
tended. 

Of  the  furniture  of  their  bed-rooms  we  know  little  or  noth- 
ing; but  that  they  universally  employed  the  wooden  pillow  above 
alluded  to  is  evident,  though  Porphyry  would  lead  us  to  sup- 
pose its  use  was  confined  to  the  priests,  when,  in  noticing  their 
mode  of  life,  he  mentions  a  half  cylinder  of  well  polished  wood 
"sufficing  to  support  their  head,"  as  an  instance  of  their  simplicity 
and  self  denial.  For  the  rich  they  were  made  of  Oriental  ala- 
baster, with  an  elegant  grooved  or  fluted  shaft,  ornamented  with 
hieroglyphics,  carved  in  intaglio,  of  sycamore,  tamarisk,  and 
other  woods  of  the  country;  the  poor  classes  being  contented 
with  a  cheaper  sort,  of  pottery  or  stone.  Porphyry  mentions  a 
kind  of  wicker  bedstead  of  -palm  branches^  hence  called  hals^ 
evidently  the  species  of  framework  called  kafass^  still  employed 
by  the  modern  Egyptians  as  a  support  to  the  divans  of  sitting 
rooms,  and  to  their  beds.  Wooden,  and  perhaps  also  bronze, 
bedsteads  (like  the  iron  one  of  Og,  King  of  Bashan),  were  used 
by  the  wealthier  classes  of  the  ancient  Egyptians;  and  it  is  at 
least  probable  that  the  couches  they  slept  upon  were  as  elegant 
as  those  on  which  their  bodies  reposed  after  death;  and  the  more 
so,  as  these  last,  in  their  general  style,  are  very  similar  to  the 
furniture  of  the  sitting-room. 

The  oldest  specimen  of  a  bedstead  is  that  mentioned  by  Ho- 
mer as  joined  together  by  Odysseus  in  his  own  house.  He  had 
cut  off"  the  stem  of  an  olive-tree  a  few  feet  from  the  ground,  and 
joined  to  it  the  boards  of  the  bed,  so  that  the  trunk  supported 
the  bed  at  the  head.  It  therefore  was  immovable.  The  antique 
bed  must  be  considered  as  the  prolongation  of  the  diphros.  The 
cross-legged  diphros  prolonged  became  the  folding  bed ;  that  with 
perpendicular  legs  the  couch.     The  former  could  easily  be  moved 


3^4 


DOMESTIC    UTi:XSll.S. 


and  replaced;  they  are  perhaps  identical  with  the  beds  frequently 
mentioned  in  the  "Odyssey,"  which  were  put  into  the  outer  hall 
for  o-uests.  One  of  them  is  shown  as  the  notorious  bed  of  Prok- 
rustes  in  a  picture  on  a  vase.  The  diphros  corresponds  to  the 
couch  resting  on  four  legs,  at  first  without  head  and  foot-board, 
which  were  afterwards  added  at  both  ends.  By  the  further  ad- 
dition of  a  back  on  one  of  the  long  sides,  it  became  what  we  now 
call  a  chaise  lonoriie  or  sofa.  This  sleeping  kline  was  no  doubt 
essentially  the  same  as  that  used  at  meals.  The  materials  were, 
besides  the  ordinary  woods,  maple  or  box,  either  massive  or  ve- 
neered. The  legs  and  backs,  and  other  parts  not  covered  by  the 
bed  clothes,  were  carefully  worked.  Sometimes  the  legs  are 
neatly  carved  or  turned,  sometimes  the  frames  are  inlaid  with 
gold,  silver,  and  ivory,  as  is  testified  in  the  "Odyssey,"  and  else- 
where. 

The  bedding  mentioned  in  Homer  did  not  consist  of  sumpt- 
uous bolsters  and  cushions,  as  in  later  times.  It  consisted,  even 
amongst  the  richer  classes,  first  of  all  of  the  blankets  of  a  long- 
haired woolen  material,  or  perhaps  a  kind  of  mattress.  Hides^ 
as  spread  by  the  poor  on  the  hard  floor,  were  sometimes  put  un- 
der the  blankets,  and  other  additional  blankets,  so  as  to  soften 
the  couch.  The  whole  was  covered  with  linen  sheets.  The 
light  blankets  served  to  cover  the  sleeper,  who  sometimes  used 
his  own  dress  for  this  purpose;  sometimes  they  consisted  of  woolen 
blankets  woven  for  the  purpose.  After  Homer's  time,  when 
Asiatic  luxury  had  been  introduced  into  Greece,  a  mattress  was 
placed  immediately  on  the  bed-straps.  It  was  stuffed  with 
plucked  wool  or  feathers,  and  covered  with  some  linen  or  woolen 
material.  Pillows,  like  the  mattresses  stuffed  with  wool  or 
feathers,  were  added  to  complete  the  bedding,  at  least  in  more 
luxurious  times.  (The  cut  on  page  78  gives  a  good  idea  of  the 
looks  of  an  ancient  Roman  and  Grecian  bed.)  Of  a  similar  kind 
were  the  klinai  placed  in  the  sitting-rooms,  lying  on  which,  in  a 


TABLES,    ETC.  ^I- 

hali-reclining  position,  people  used  to  read,  write  and  take  their 
meals.  They  were  covered  with  soft  blankets  of  gorgeous  colors, 
while  one  or  more  cushions  served  to  support  the  body  in  its  half- 
sitting  position,  or  to  prop  the  left  arm. 

Tables  were  used  by  the  ancients  chiefly  at  meals,  not  for 
reading  and  writing.  The  antique  tables,  either  square  with  four 
legs,  or  circular  or  oval  with  three  connected  legs,  afterwards 
with  one  leg,  resemble  our  modern  ones,  but  for  their  being  lower. 
Mostly  their  slabs  did  not  reach  higher  than  the  kline;  higher 
tables  would  have  been  inconvenient  for  the  reclining  person.  In 
Homeric  and  even  in  later  times,  a  small  table  stood  before  each 
thronos.  The  use  of  separate  dishes  for  each  guest  is  compar- 
atively new.  Originally  the  meats  were  brought  in  on  large 
platters,  divided  by  the  steward,  and  each  portion  put  on  the  bare 
table.  In  want  of  knives  and  forks  the  fingers  were  used.  The 
pastry  was  put  in  baskets  by  the  tables.  Whether  the  Homeric 
tables  were  as  low  as  the  later  ones,  when  lying  instead  of  sitting 
had  become  the  custom,  we  must  leave  undecided,  in  want  of 
sculptural  evidence.  The  legs  of  the  tables  were  carefully  fin- 
ished, particularly  those  of  the  tripods,  which  frequently  imitated 
the  legs  of  animals,  or  at  least  had  claws  at  their  ends.  The  four- 
legged  tables  were  more  simple  in  design.  The  material  was 
wood,  particularly  maple;  later  on,  bronze,  precious  metals,  and 
ivory  were  introduced. 

For  the  keeping  of  articles  of  dress,  valuable  utensils,  orna- 
ments, bottles  of  ointment,  and  documents,  larger  or  smaller 
drawers  and  boxes  were  used.  Chests  of  drawers  and  upright 
cupboards  with  doors  seem  to  have  been  unknown  in  earlier 
times;  only  in  few  monuments  of  later  date  (for  instance  in  the 
wall-painting  of  a  shoemaker's  workshop  at  Herculaneum)  we 
see  something  resembling  our  wardrobe.  The  wardrobes  men- 
tioned by  Homer  doubtless  resembled  our  old-fashioned  trunks. 
The  surfaces  showed  ornaments  of  various  kinds,  either  cut  from 


3i6 


DOMES'l'IC    UTENSILS. 


the  wood  in  relief  or  inlaid  with  precious  metal  and  ivory.  Some 
smaller  boxes  with  inlaid  figures  or  painted  arabesques  are  shown 
from  pictures  on  vases.  The  ornamentation  with  polished  nails 
seem  to  have  been  very  much  in  favor — a  fashion  re- introduced 
in  modern  times.  The  most  celebrated  example  of  such  orna- 
mentation was  the  box  of  Kypselos,  in  the  opisthodomos  of  the 
temple  of  Hera  at  Olympia.  It  dates  probably  from  the  time 
when  the  counting  by  Olympiads  -was  introduced,  and  served, 
according  to  Botticher,  for  the  keeping  of  votive  tapestry  and  the 
like.  According  to  Pausanias,  it  was  made  of  cedar-wood, 
and  elliptic  in  shape.  It  was  adorned  with  m3^thological  repre- 
sentations, partly  carved  in  wood,  partly  inlaid  with  gold  and 
ivor}',  encircling  the  whole  box  in  five  stripes,  one  over  the 
other. 

Locks,  ke3's  and  bolts,  known  at  an  early  period  for  the 
closing  of  doors,  were  later  applied  to  boxes,  as  is  sufficiently 
proved  by  the  still-existing  small  keys  fastened  to  finger-rings, 
which,  although  all  of  Roman  make,  were  most  likely  not 
unknown  to  the  Greeks.  For  doors  these  would  have  been  too 
small. 

The  furniture  of  Greek  houses  was  simple,  but  full  of  artistic 
beauty.  This  was  particularly  displayed  in  vessels  lor  the  keep- 
ing of  both  dry  and  fluid  stores,  as  were  found  in  temples,  dwell- 
ings and  even  graves.  Only  the  last-mentioned  have  been  pre- 
served to  us.  Earthen  vessels  are  the  most  numerous.  The  in- 
vention of  the  potter's  wheel  is  of  great  antiquity,  and  was 
ascribed  by  the  Greeks  in  difterent  places  to  different  mythical 
persons.  The  Corinthians  named  H3^perbion  as  its  inventor.  In 
the  Kerameikos,  the  potters'  quarter  of  Athens,  Keramos,  the 
son  of  Dionysos  and  Ariadne,  was  worshiped  as  such.  The  name 
of  the  locality  itself  was  derived  from  this  "heros  eponymos." 
Next  to  Corinth  and  Athens  (which  latter  became  celebrated  for 
earthen  manufactures,  owing  to  the  excellent  clay  of  the  promon- 


3l8  DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 

torv  of  Kolias),  ^gina,  Lakedaemon,  Aulis,  Tenedos,  Samos  and 
Knidos  were  famous  for  their  earthenware.  In  these  places  the 
manufacture  of  painted  earthenware  was  concentrated;  thence  they 
were  exported  to  the  ports  of  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Black 
Sea  for  the  markets  of  the  adjoining  countries.  Owing  to  the 
beautiful  custom  of  the  ancients  of  leaving  in  the  graves  of  the 
dead  the  utensils  of  their  daily  life,  a  great  many  beautiful  vessels 
have  been  preserved  which  otherwise  would  have  shared  the  de- 
struction of  the  dwellings  with  much  less  fragile  implements. 
From  the  pictures  on  these  vases  we  derive,  moreover,  valuable 
information  as  to  the  public  and  private  habits  of  the  Greeks. 
The  greatest  number  of  graves  in  their  original  condition,  and 
filled  with  vessels,  are  found  in  Italy. 

Good,  particularly  red,  clay  was  in  demand  for  superior 
goods,  and  of  this  the  promontory  of  Kolias,  near  Athens,  fur- 
nished an  unlimited  supply.  The  potter's  wheel  was  in  use  at  a 
verv  early  period.  On  it  were  formed  both  large  and  small  ves- 
sels, with  the  difference,  however,  that  of  the  former  the  foot, 
neck,  and  handles  were  formed  separately,  and  afterwards  at- 
tached, as  was  also  the  case  in  small  vessels  with  widely  curved 
handles. 

In  order  to  intensify  the  red  color  the  vessel  was  frequently 
glazed  and  afterwards  dried  and  burnt  on  the  oven.  The  outlines 
of  the  figures  to  be  painted  on  the  vase  were  either  cut  into  the 
red  cla}'  and  filled  up  w^ith  a  brilliant  black  varnish,  or  the  sur- 
face itself  was  covered  with  the  black  varnish  up  to  the  con- 
tours, in  which  case  these  stood  out  in  the  natural  red  color  ol 
the  cla\'. 

The  first  mentioned  process  was  the  older  of  the  two,  and 
greater  antiquity  is,  therefore,  to  be  assigned  to  vessels  with  black 
figures  on  a  red  ground.  In  both  kinds  of  paintings  draperies  or 
the  muscles  of  nude  figures  were  further  indicated  by  the  incision 
of  additional   lines   of  the  color  of  the  surface  into  the  figures. 


POTTERY. 


319 


Other  colors,  like  dark  red,  violet,  or  white,  which  on  close  in- 
vestigation have  been  recognized  as  dissolvable,  were  put  on  alter 
the  second  burning  of  the  vessel. 

About  the  historic  development  of  pottery  we  know  nothing 
beyond  what  may  be  guessed  from  the  difterences  of  style.  As 
we  said  before,  figures  of  a  black  or  dark-brown  color  painted 
on  •  the  natural  pale  red  or  yellowish  color  of  the  clay  indicate 
greater  antiquity.  The  black  figures  were  occasionally  painted 
over  in  white  or  violet.  These  vessels  are  mostly  small  and  some- 
what compressed  in  form;  they  are  surrounded  with  parallel 
stripes  of  pictures  of  animals,  plants,  fabulous  beings,  or  ara- 
besques. The  drawings  show  an  antiquated  stiff  type,  similar  to 
those  on  the  vessels  recently  discovered  at  Nineveh  and  Babylon, 
whence  the  influence  of  Oriental  on  Greek  art  may  be  inferred. 
This  archaic  style,  like  the  strictly  hieratic  style  in  sculpture,  was 
retained  together  with  a  freer  treatment  at  a  more  advanced 
period.  As  a  first  step  of  development  we  notice  the  combination 
of  animals  and  arabesques,  at  first  with  half-human,  half-animal 
figures,  soon  followed  by  compositions  belonging  mostly  to  a  cer- 
tain limited  circle  of  myths.  The  treatment  of  figures  shows 
rigidity  in  the  calm,  and  violence  in  the  active,  positions.  The 
Doric  forms  of  letters  and  words  on  many  vases  of  this  style, 
whether  found  in  Greece  or  Italy,  no  less  than  the  uniformity  of 
their  technique^  indicate  one  place  of  manufacture,  most  likely  the 
Doric  Corinth,  celebrated  for  her  potteries;  on  the  other  hand, 
the  inscriptions  in  Ionian  characters  and  written  in  the  Ionian  dia- 
lect on  vessels  prove  their  origin  in  the  manufactures  of  the  Ionian 
Eubcea  and  her  colonies.  The  pictures  on  these  vases,  also 
painted  in  stripes,  extend  the  mythological  subject-matter  beyond 
the  Trojan  cycle  to  the  oldest  epical  myths,  each  story  being  rep- 
resented in  its  consecutive  phases. 

The  latter  vases  form  the  transition  to  the  second  period. 
The  shapes  now  become  more  varied,  graceful,  and  slender.  The 


y-o 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


tigures  are  painted  in  black,  and  covered  with  a  brilliant  varnish; 
the  technique  of  the  painting,  however,  does  not  differ  from  that 
of  the  first  period.  The  outlines  have  been  neatly  incised  and 
covered  up  with  black  paint;  the  details  also  of  draperies  and 
single  parts  of  the  body  are  done  by  incision,  and  sometimes 
painted  over  in  white  or  dark  red.  The  principle  seems  to  be 
that  of  pol\-chrome  painting,  also  applied  in  sculpture.  Single 
parts  of  the  armor,  embroideries,  and  patterns  of  dresses,  hair, 
and  beards  of  men,  the  manes  of  animals,  etc.,  are  indicated  by 
means  of  dark  red  lines.  This  variety  of  color  was  required  par- 
ticularly for  the  draperies,  which  are  stiff  and  clumsily  attached 
to  the  body.  The  same  stiffness  is  shown  in  the  treatment  of 
faces  and  other  nude  parts  of  the  body,  as  also  in  the  rendering 
of  movements.  The  faces  are  always  in  pron)e,  the  nose  and  chin 
pointed  and  protruding,  and  the  lips  of  the  compressed  mouth  in- 
dicated only  by  a  line.  Shoulders,  hips,  thighs,  and  calves  bulge 
out,  the  body  being  singularly  pinched.  The  grouping  is  equally 
imperfect.  The  single  figures  of  compositions  are  loosely  con- 
nected by  the  general  idea  of  the  story.  They  have,  as  it  were, 
a  narrative  character;  an  attempt  at  truth  to  nature  is,  however, 
undeniable. 

The  subjects  are  taken  partly  from  the  twelve-gods  cycle 
(like  the  frequently-occurring  birth  of  Athene,  Dionysian  proces- 
sions, etc.),  or  from  Trojan  and  Theban  myths;  partly  also  from 
daily  life,  such  as  chases,  wrestlings,  sacrifices,  symposia  and  the 
like.  To  this  class  belong  most  of  those  large  Panathenaic  prize- 
vases,  which  are  of  such  importance  for  our  knowledge  of  gym- 
nastic competitions. 

In  our  third  class  the  figures  appear  in  the  natural  color  of 
the  surface,  which  itself  has  been  painted  black.  The  character 
of  the  figures  in  consequence  appears  gay  and  lively.  Both  st3des 
seem  at  one  time  to  have  existed  together,  for  we  find  them  used 
severally  on  two  sides  of  one  and  the  same  vessel,  till  at  last  the 


DRAWINGS    ON    VASES. 


321 


painting  of  black  figures  was  disused  entirely.  The  drawings 
now  become  more  individual,  and  are  freed  from  the  fetters  of 
conventional  tradition — a  proof  of  the  free  development  of  both 
political  and  artistic  feelings,  even  among  the  lower  classes  of  arti- 
ficers. The  specimens  of  the  third  class  show  the  different  stages 
of  this  process  of  liberation.  At  first  the  figures  are  somewhat 
hard,  and  the  drapery,  although  following  the  lines  of  the  body 
more  freely  than  pre- 
viously, shows  still  tra 
ces  of  archaic  severity 
of  treatment;  the  details, 
indicated  by  black  lines, 
are  still  carefully  worked 
out.  For  smaller  folds 
and  muscles,  a  darker 
shade  of  the  red  color 
is  used;  wreaths  and 
flowers  appear  dark ; 
red  white  is  used  only 
in  few  cases  —  for  in- 
stance, for  the  hair  of  an 
old  man.  The  composi- 
tion shows  greater  con- 
centration and  symme- 
try in  the  grouping, 
according  to  the  condi- 
tions of  the  space  at 
disposal.      The    figures 

show  a  solemn  dignity,  with  signs,  however,  of  an  attempted  freer 
treatment. 

Kramer  justly  calls  this  period  that  of  the  "  severe  style," 
and  compares  it  with  the  well-known  "v^ginetic  "  style  in  sculp- 
ture.    The  further   development  of  the  "  severe  style  "  is  what 

21 


,22  DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 

Kramer  calls  the  ''beautiful  style,''  in  which  grace  and  beauty  of 
motion  and  drapery,  verging  on  the  soft,  have  taken  the  place  of 
severe  di"-nitv.  In  high  art  this  transition  might  be  compared  to 
that  from  Perugino's  school  to  that  of  Raphael,  or,  if  we  may  be- 
lieve the  ancient  writers,  from  the  school  of  Polygnotos  to  that  of 
Zeuxis  and  Parrhasios. 

The  form  of  the  vessels  themselves  next  calls  for  our  atten- 
tion. The  vases,  two-handled  amphorai  and  krateres,  found  most 
frequently  during  this  period,  are  slender  and  graceful.  Together 
with  them  we  meet  with  beautifull}^  modeled  drinking-horns,  and 
heads  or  whole  figures,  used  to  put  vessels  upon.  The  variety 
of  forms,  and  the  largeness  of  some  vessels,  overloaded  as  they 
were  with  figures,  soon  led  to  want  of  care  in  the  composition. 
The  moderation  characteristic  of  the  "beautiful  style"  was  soon 
relinquished  for  exaggerated  ornamentation,  combined  with  a 
preference  for  representing  sumptuous  dresses  and  the  immoderate 
use  of  white,  3'ellow,  and  other  colors.  This  led  gradually  to  the 
decadence  of  potter}^ 

In  some  Etruscan  cities  earthenware  was  manufactured  by 
local  artists  working  after  Greek  patterns.  The  figures  are  dis- 
tinguished from  genuine  Greek  work  by  the  contours  being  incised 
very  deeply  and  filled  up  with  red  color.  The  cla}'  also  is  coarser. 
The  compositions  show  an  admixture  of  local  myths  and  usages, 
not  to  mention  Etruscan  inscriptions. 


Ya?e^. 


Painted  vases  may  be  considered  as  the  most  curious,  the 
most  graceful,  and  the  most  instructive  remains  that  have  comt 
down  to  us  from  ancient  times.  The  beauty  of  the  forms,  the 
fineness  of  the  material,  the  perfection  of  the  varnish,  the  variety 
of  the  subjects,  and  their  interest  in  an  historical  point  of  view 
give  painted  vases  a  very  important  place-  among  the  productions 
of  the  arts  of  the  ancients.  Painted  vases  have  been  collected 
with  great  eagerness  ever  since  they  have  been  known,  and  the 
most  remarkable  have  been  engraved  by  celebrated  artists,  and 
explained  by  profound  archaeologists.  Modern  art  and  archaeol- 
ogy have  obtained  from  them  beautiful  models  and  important 
information.  They  were  known  for  the  first  time  in  the  seven- 
teenth century. 

Painted  vases  were,  to  a  considerable  extent,  objects  ot 
traffic  and  of  export  from  one  country  to  another.  They  may 
be  generally  traced  to  Athens  as  the  original  place  of  exporta- 
tion. Corinth  also  exported  vases,  for  the  products  of  Corinthian 
potters  have  been  found  in  Sicily  and  Italy,  and  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  Corinth  had  established  an  active  trade  in  works  of 
art  with  the  Greek  colonies  all  over  the  Mediterranean.  Athen- 
ian vases  were  carried  by  the  Phoenicians,  the  commercial 
traders  of  the  ancient  world,  as  objects  of  traffic  to  the  remotest 
parts  of  the  then  known  world.     In  the  Periplus  of  Scylax,  the 

323 


3^4 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


Phosnicians  are  mentioned  as  exchanging  the  pottery  of  Athens 
for  the  ivory  of  Africa.  They  were,  in  fact,  the  ornamental 
china  of  the  ancient  world. 

Etruscan. — The  potter's  art  was  introduced  into  Etruria  by 
Demaratus  of  Corinth,  who,  flying  from  that  city,  took  up  his 

abode  at  Tarquinii,  the 
modern  Corneto,  where 
vases  in  the  most  ar- 
chaic style,  resembling 
those  of  Corinth,  or 
those  called  Doric, 
have  been  found. 
Vases,  the  Etruscan 
origin  of  which  can  not 
be  disputed,  have  been 
found  at  Volterra,  Tar- 
quinii (Corneto),  Pe- 
rugia, Orvieto,Viterbo, 
Aquapendente,  and 
other  towns  of  ancient 
Etruria.  The  clay  of  which  they  are  made  is  of  a  pale  or 
reddish  yellow,  the  varnish  is  dull,  the  workmanship  rather  rude, 
the  ornaments  are  devoid  of  taste  and  elegance,  and  the  style  of  • 
the  figures  possesses  all  those  characteristics  already  assigned  to 
that  of  the  Etruscans.  The  figures  are  drawn  in  black  on  the 
natural  color  of  the  clay;  sometimes  a  little  red  is  introduced  on 
the  black  ground  of  the  drapery.  It  is  by  the  subject  chiefly 
that  the  Etruscan  vases  are  distinguished  from  the  Greek  vases. 
On  the  former,  the  figures  are  in  the  costume  peculiar  to  ancient 
Italy;  the  men  and  the  heroes  are  represented  with  their  beards 
and  hair  very  thick;  the  gods  and  genii  have  large  wings;  mon- 
strous combinations  not  capable  of  explanation  by  Hellenic  myths; 
we    may   also    observe    divinities,   religious   customs,  attributes. 


ETRUSCAN    VASE. 


GREEK    VASES. 


325 


manners,  arms,  and  symbols,  different  from  those  of  Greece. 
Etruscan  deities,  such  as  Charun  with  his  mace,  denote  their 
Etruscan  origin;  the  subjects  of  the  vases  are,  however,  generally 
derived  from  Greek  mythology,  treated  in  a  manner  consonant  to 
the  Etruscan  taste,  and  to  their  local  religion,  while  their  drawing 
is  of  the  coarsest  kind.  If  an  inscription  in  Etruscan  characters, 
traced  invariably  from  right  to  left,  accompanies  the  painting, 
certainty  with  regard  to  their  origin  may  be  considered  as  com- 
plete. It  is  true  that  the  greater  number 
of  the  letters  of  the  ancient  Greek  alpha- 
bet are  of  the  same  form  as  those  of  the 
Etruscan  alphabet;  but  there  are  in  the 
latter  some  particular  charac- 
ters which  will  prevent  any 
confusion.  The  names  of  the 
personages  on  the  vases  are 
spelt  differently  from  those 
on  the  Greek,  as  Ainas  for 
Ajax,  Atreste  for  Adrastus,  Akle  for  Achilles,  Alcsti  for  Alces- 
tis,  etc.  We  must  also  observe,  that  Etruscan  painted  vases  are 
very  rare,  and  are  but  few  in  number,  compared  with  those  for 
which  we  are  indebted  to   the  arts  of  Greece. 

Greek. — The  paste  of  these  vases  is  tender,  easily  scratched 
or  cut  with  a  knife,  remarkably  fine  and  homogeneous,  but  of  loose 
texture.  When  broken,  it  exhibits  a  dull  opaque  color,  more  or 
less  yellow,  red  or  grey.  It  is  composed  of  silica,  alumina,  car- 
bonate of  lime,  magnesia  and  oxide  of  iron.  The  color  depends 
on  the  proportions  in  which  these  elements  are  mixed;  the  paler 
parts  containing  more  lime,  the  red  more  iron.  The  exterior 
coating  is  composed  of  a  particular  kind  of  clay,  which  seems  to 
be  a  kind  of  yellow  or  red  ochre,  reduced  to  a  very  fine  paste, 
mixed  with  some  glutinous  or  oily  substance,  and  laid  on  with  a 
brush ;  great  difierence  is  observable  in  the  pastes  of  vases  com- 


,26 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


inf  from  widely  separated  localities,  owing  either  to  their  compo- 
sition or  bakin"-.  The  paste  of  the  early  vases  of  Athens  and 
Melos  is  of  a  very  pale  red;  that  of  vases  of  the  Doric  or 
Corinthian  style  is  of  a  pale  lemon  color.  At  the  best  period  of 
the  art,  the  paste  is  of  a  warm  orange  red;  but  Lucanian  and 
Apulian  vases  are  of  a  paler  tone.  The  Etruscan  painted  vases 
of  all  ao-es  are  of  a  pale  red  tone,  with  a  much  greater  proportion 
of  white,  which  appears  to  be  owing  to  the  greater  proportion  of 
chalk  used  in  preparing  the  paste. 

The  earliest  vases  were  made  with  the  hand,  while  those  of 
a  later  period  were  made  with  the  wheel;  the  wheel,  however, 
is  a  very  early  invention.  Among  the  Egyptians  and  Greeks  it 
was  a  low,  circular  table,  turned  with  the  foot.  •  Representations 
of  a  potter  turning  the  wheel  with  his  foot,  occur  on  painted 
vases  of  an  early  date.  With  this  simple  wheel  the  Greeks 
effected  wonders,  producing  shapes  still  unrivalled  in  beauty. 

After  the  vases  had  been  made  on  the  wheel.  Dr.  Birch 
writes,  they  were  duly  dried  in  the  sun,  and  then  painted; 
for  it  is  evident  that  they  could  not  have  been  painted  while  wet. 
The  simplest  and  probably  the  most  common,  process  was  to 
color  the  entire  vase  black.  The  under  part  of  the  foot  was  left 
plain.  When  a  pattern  was  added,  the  outline,  faintly  traced 
with  a  round  point  on  the  moist  clay,  was  carefully  followed  by 
the  painter.  It  was  necessary  for  the  artist  to  follow  his  sketch 
with  great  rapidity,  since  the  clay  rapidly  absorbed  the  coloring 
matter,  and  the  outline  was  required  to  be  bold  and  continuous, 
each  time  that  it  was  joined  detracting  from  its  merit.  A  finely- 
ground  slip  was  next  laid  upon  a  brush,  and  the  figures  and  orna- 
ments were  painted  in.  The  whole  was  then  covered  with  a  very 
fine  siliceous  glaze,  probably  formed  of  soda  and  well-levigated 
sand.  The  vase  was  next  sent  to  the  furnace,  and  carefully 
baked.  It  was  then  returned  to  the  workshop,  where  a  workman 
or  painter  scratched  in  all  tlic  details  with  a   pointed    tool.      The 


GREEK    VASES. 


3^7 


faces  of  female  figures  were  colored  white,  with  a  thick  coat  of 
lime  or  chalk,  and  the  eyes  red.  Parts  of  the  drapery,  the  crests 
of  helmets,  and  the  antyges^  or  borders  of  shields,  were  colored 
with  a  crimson  coat,  consisting  of  an  oxide  of  iron  and  lime,  like 
a  body  color. 

In  the  second  style  of  vases  the  figures  are  painted  in  a  dark 
brown  or  black,  of  an  unequal  tone,  on  yellow  ground,  formed  of  a 
siliceous  coating  over  the  pale  red  clay  of  the  vase.  An  improve- 
ment upon  this  style  was  the  changing  of  the  color  of  the  figures 
by  painting,  or  stopping  out,  all  the  ground  of  the  vase  in  black, 
thus  leaving  the  figures  of  the  natural  red  of  the  clay,  and  the 
marking  of  the  muscles  and  finer  portions,  as  an  outline,  of  bright 
brown.  After  the  paint  had  dried,  the  slip,  or  the  siliceous  glaze, 
was  laid  over  the  vase,  except  the  under  part  of  the  foot  and  the 
inside.  The  colors  used  were  few  and  simple,  and  were  evidently 
ground  excessively  fine,  and  made  into  a  kind  of  slip.  Of  these 
colors  the  black  was  the  most  important  and  the  most  extensively 
used.  Great  diflference  has  always  existed  as  to  the  nature  of 
this  color.  Vauquelin  takes  it  to  be  a  carbonaceous  matter,  such 
as  plumbagine  or  black  lead.  The  Due  de  Luynes  asserts  it  to 
be  an  oxide  of  iron.  Of  opaque  colors,  the  most  important  and 
extensively  used  is  the  white,  said  by  Brongniart  to  be  a  carbon- 
ate of  lime  or  fine  clay.  Red  and  yellow  are  sparingly  used. 
Blue  and  green  are  rarely  found,  and  only  on  vases  of  the  latest 
styles.  The  liquid  employed  for  mixing  the  colors  is  supposed  to 
have  been  water. 

The  glaze  with  which  these  vases  were  covered  is  described 
by  M.  Brongniart  as  lustrous  (lustre)^  and  only  one  kind  was 
used,  the  recipe  for  making  which  is  now  lost.  It  appears  to  have 
been  composed  of  one  of  the  principal  alkalies,  either  potash  or 
soda.  The  vases  of  Nola  and  Vulci  are  remarkable  for  the 
beauty  and  brilliancy  of  their  glaze. 

According  to  d'Hancarville  the  vases  were  baked  in  a  naked 


328 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


furnace.  Representations  of  ancient  furnaces  occur  on  painted 
vases.  The  furnaces  were  of  simple  construction,  in  shape  Hke 
tall  ovens,  fed  by  fires  from  beneath,  into  which  the  vases  were 
placed  with  a  long  shovel  resembling  the  baker's  peel. 

The  colors  being  laid  on  in  a  different  manner  in  the  earlier 
and  later   vases  has  caused  them  to  be  distinguished  into  two 


VASE  REPRESENTiNTi  A  MATmiAOE.     {Found  at  PompeU.) 

general  classes.  In  the  earlier  the  ground  is  }'ellow  or  red,  and 
the  figures  are  traced  on  it  in  black,  so  as  to  form  kinds  of 
silhouettes.  These  are  called  the  black  or  archaic  vases;  they 
are  generally  in  an  ancient  style;  their  subjects  belong  to  the 
most  ancient  mythological  traditions,  and  their  inscriptions  to 
the  most  ancient  forms  of  the  Greek  alphabet,  written  from  right 


GREEK    VASES. 


329 


to  lelt,  or  in  boustrophedon.  The  draperies,  the  accessories,  the 
harness  of  the  horses,  and  the  wheels  of  the  chariots,  are  touched 
with  white.  At  a  later  period,  the  whole  vase  was  painted  black, 
with  the  exception  of  the  figures,  which  were  then  of  the  color 
of  the  cla}^  of  the  vase;  the  contours  of  the  figures,  the  hair, 
drapery,  etc.,  being  previously  traced  in  black.  There  are  then 
two  general  classes  of  Greek  vases,  distinguished  by  the  figures, 
which  are  black  or  yellow.  They  are  in  general  remarkable  for 
the  beauty  and  elegance  of  their  forms.  There  is  a  great  variety 
in  their  sizes ;  some  being  several  feet  high,  and  broad  in  propor- 
tion; others  being  not  higher  than  an  inch.  The  subject  is 
on  one  side  of  the  vase;  sometimes  it. occupies  the  entire 
circumference,  but  more  generally  it  is  on  one  side  alone,  and 
then  there  is  on  the  reverse  some  insignificant  subject,  generally 
two  or  three  old  men  leaning  on  a  stick,  instructing  a  young 
man,  or  presenting  him  with  some  instrument  or  utensil;  a  bac- 
chanalian scene  is  sometimes  represented  on  the  reverse.  Some 
vases  have  been  found  with  two  subjects  on  the  sides  of  the  vase. 
On  some  of  the  finest  vases,  the  subject  goes  round  the  entire 
circumference  of  the  vase.  On  the  foot,  neck  and  other  parts 
are  the  usual  Greek  ornaments,  the  Vitruvian  scroll,  the  Me- 
ander, Palmetto,  the  honeysuckle.  A  garland  sometimes  adorns 
the  neck,  or,  in  its  stead,  a  woman's  head  issuing  from  a  flower. 
These  ornaments  are  in  general  treated  with  the  greatest  taste  and 
elegance.  Besides  the  obvious  difference  in  the  style  of  the  vases, 
there  is  a  remarkable  difference  in  the  execution  of  the  paint- 
ings They  are  not  all  of  the  highest  merit,  but  the  boldness  of 
the  outlines  is  generally  remarkable  on  them.  They  could  be 
executed  only  with  the  greatest  rapidity,  the  clay  absorbing  the 
colors  very  quickly,  so  that  if  a  line  was  interrupted  the  joining 
would  be  perceptible.  Some  thought  that  the  figures  were  exe- 
cuted by  the  means  of  patterns  cut  out,  which  being  laid  on  the 
vase,  preserved  on  the  black  ground  the  principal  masses  in  yel- 


330 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


low,  whicli  were  finished  afterwards  with  a  brush.  But  this 
opinion  of  Sir  William  Hamilton  has  been  abandoned  by  himself, 
particularly  since  the  traces  of  a  point  have  been  recognized, 
with  which  the  artist  had  at  first  sketched  on  the  soft  clay  the 
principal  outlines,  which  he  afterwards  finished  with  a  brush  dipped 
in  the  black  pigment,  without,  however,  strictly  following  the 
lines  traced  by  the  point.  The  traces  of  the  point  are  rarely  ob- 
served; all  depended  on  the  skill  and  talent  of  the  artists.  They" 
must  have  been  ver}^  numerous,  as  these  vases  are  found  in  such 
numbers,  and  the  greater  number  may  be  considered  as  models 
for  the  excellence  of  their  design  and  the  taste  of  their  composi- 
tion. Not  unfrequently,  the  artists  by  whom  the  designs  have 
been  painted,  have  placed  their  names  on  them;  the  principal 
names  known  are  those  of  Clitias,  Doris  who  painted  the  cele- 
brated Francois  vase,  Asteas,  and  Epictetos.  Clitias  is  the  most 
ancient;  his  designs  evince  the  infancy  of  art,  those  of  the  other 
artists  display  greater  progress  in  the  art;  the  name  can  be  rec- 
ognized from  the  word  painted^  which  follows  it  immediately^ 
Some  vases   have  the    potter''s   name  inscribed  on  them. 

One  of  the  earliest  makers  was  Taleides.  Nearly  fifty  names 
of  potters  have  been  found,  but  they  only  occur  on  choice  speci- 
mens of  art.  On  many  vases  the  name  of  the  artist  appears 
along  with  that  of  the  potter,  which  much  enhances  the  value  of 
the  vase.  On  the  celebrated  Francois  vase  appear  the  name  of 
the  artist  Clitias,  and  the  name  of  the  potter  Ergotimos.  Some 
potters,  such  as  Amasis  and  Euphronius,  painted  as  well  as  made 
vases.  Other  inscriptions  are  sometimes  found  on  vases  which 
enhance  their  value  greatly.  They  are  generally  the  names  of 
gods,  heroes,  and  other  mythological  personages,  which  are  rep- 
resented in  the  paintings. 

These  inscriptions  are  of  great  interest  for  two  reasons  :  in 
the  first  place,  from  the  form  of  the  letters  and  the  order  accord- 
ing to  which  they  are  traced,  the  greater  or  lesser  antiquity  of 


INSCRIPTIONS    ON    VASES.  33I 

the  vase  can  be  recognized,  these  inscriptions  necessarily  follow- 
ing all  the  changes  of  the  Greek  alphabet ;  care  must  be  taken  to 
examine  whether  the  inscription  goes  from  right  to  left,  whether 
the  long  vowels,  the  double  letters  are  replaced  by  the  silent 
vowels,  or  single  letters;  these  are  in  general  signs  of  relative  an- 
tiquity which  prove  that  of  the  vase  itself;  secondly,  because  the 
names  invariably  explain  the  subject  of  the  painting,  and  even  in- 
dicate by  a  name  hitherto  unknown,  either  some  personage  who 
sometimes  bore  another  name,  or  a  person  whose  real  name  was 
unknown,  in  line,  some  mythic  being  of  whom  ancient  writers 
give  us  no  information. 

The  information  derived  from  vases  is  of  great  importance 
for  the  study  of  Greek  mythology  viewed  in  its  difterent  epochs, 
and  for  the  interpretation  and  understanding  of  ancient  tragic  or 
lyric  poets.  Moral  or  historical  inscriptions,  in  prose  and  in  verse, 
have  also  been  found  on  vases.  The  letters  of  these  inscriptions 
are  capital  or  cursive;  they  are  very  delicately  traced,  and  often 
require  a  great  deal  of  attention  to  perceive.  They  are  traced 
in  black  or  white  with  a  brush,  sometimes  they  are  incised  with 
a  very  sharp  point. 

On  some  which  had  been  gifts  to  some  "  beautiful  youths," 
we  find  the  inscription,  "the  handsome  boy,"  and  also  the  form, 
"the  handsome  Onetorides,"  "the  handsome  Stroibos."  One 
youth  is  called  "the  most  handsome  Hippocritus."  The  names 
of  females,  whether  brides,  beauties,  or  hetairse,  are  found  ac- 
companied with  the  expression,  "the  lovely  Q^nanthe,"  "  the  fair 
Rodon."  On  others,  salutatory  expressions  are  sometimes  found, 
such  as  "  Hail  to  thee;"  "  Happv  as  possible." 

The  subjects  represented  on  painted  vases,  although  of  infinite 
variety,  may  be  reduced  to  three  classes,  which  include  them  all: 
I.  Mythological  subjects;  2.  Heroic  subjects;  3.  Historical  sub- 
jects. The  Alytliological  subjects  relate  to  the  history  of  all  the 
gods,  and  their  adventures  in  human  form  are  reproduced  on  them 


?>?>^ 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


in  a  thousand  shapes.  It  requires  a  deep  and  intimate  knowledge 
of  Greek  m}-thology,  in  order  to  expkiin  the  different  subjects. 
One  of  the  oklest  and  most  popukir  subjects  in  Greece  was  the 
Gigantomaeliia,  which  is  found  represented  as  a  whole  upon  many 
vases,  while  others  contain  individual  incidents  from  it. 

Among  the  Olympic  deities  represented,  Zeus  takes  a  prom- 
inent part.  The  fatlier  of  the  gods,  the  great  thunderer,  seldom 
appears  alone,  but  is  chiefly  seen  in  scenes  from  the  Heracleid  and 
the  Trojan  war.  On  the  black  vases,  and  on  those  of  the  finest 
style  with  red  figures,  his  amorous  adventures  are  also  frequently 
depicted.     The  goddess  Hera  rarely  appears. 

Athene,  the  great  temale  deity  of  the  Ionic  race,  plays  an 
important  part  in  many  scenes.  As  Pallas  Athene  she  frequently 
appears ;  generally  on  foot,  but  sometimes  in  her  quadrig£i. 
Poseidon,  the  sea  god,  appears  as  a  subordinate  in  many  scenes, 
and  as  a  protagonist  in  others.  Apollo,  Artemis,  Hephsestos, 
Ares,  Aphrodite,  and  Hermes,  frequently  appear  in  various 
scenes  in  the  vases.  The  greater  part  of  the  paintings  of  the 
vases  are  relative  to  Dionysus,  his  icstivals  and  mysteries.  On 
them  we  see  depicted  his  birth,  childhood,  education,  all  his  ex- 
ploits, his  banquets,  and  his  games;  his  habitual  companions,  his 
religious  ceremonies,  the  lampadephori  brandishing  the  long 
torches,  the  dendrophori  raising  branches  of  trees,  adorned  with 
garlands  and  tablets;  the  initiated  preparing  for  the  mysteries; 
lastly,  the  ceremonies  peculiar  to  those  great  institutions,  and  the 
circumstances  relative  to  their  dogmas  and  their  aim.  The  in- 
ferior deities  also  appear  on  the  vases. 

The  Historical  subjects  begin  with  the  war  of  Troy.  Paint- 
ers, as  well  as  poets,  found  in  this  event  a  vast  field  to  exercise 
their  talents  and  their  imagination.  The  principal  actors  in  this 
memorable  drama  appear  on  the  vases.  The  principal  scenes  of 
the  Trojan  war  arc  depicted;  but  we  must  remark,  that  the  his- 
torical subjects  do  not  extend  to  a  later  period  than  that  of  the 
Ileracleidai. 


HISTORICAL    SUBJECTS    ON    VASES. 


333 


Among  the  incidents  represented  are  the  opening  scenes  of 
the  Iliad,  the  quarrel  of  Agamemnon  and  Achilles,  Briseis  led 
away  by  the  heralds,  Paris  and  Helen,  the  death  of  Patroclus,  the 
grief  of  Achilles,  the  arming  of  Achilles,  the  death  of  Hector, 
Priam  entreating  for  the  corpse  of  Hector,  the  terrible  scene  of 


VASE  REPRESENTING  TKuJAN  WAR      {Fouiid  at  Pompeii.) 

the  last  night  of  Troy.  Many  subjects  from  the  Odyssey  also 
occur.  Incidents  from  the  Greek  drama  are  of  common  occur- 
rence, such  as  the  death  of  Agamemnon,  Orestes  and  Pylades 
meeting  Electra,  the  death  of  Clytemnestra,  the  Furies  pursuing 
Orestes. 

We  may  consider,  as  belonging  to  the  class  of  historical 
vases,  those  with  paintings  relative  to  public  and  private  customs; 
those  representing  games,  repasts,  scenic  representations  of  com- 
bats af  animals,  hunting  and  funeral  subjects. 


334 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


Millingen  remarks  that  the  subjects  of  the  paintings  vary  ac- 
cording to  the  period  and  the  places  in  which  they  have  been 
executed;  on  the  most  ancient  vases  Dion3^saic  scenes  are  fre- 
quentl}'  seen.  As,  originally,  the  greater  number  were  destined 
to   contain    wine,   they  were  adorned   with    analogous    subjects. 


VASE      {Found  at  Pompeit.) 

Those  of  the  beautiful  period  of  the  art,  especially  of  the  manu- 
facture of  Nola,  a  town  in  which  Greek  institutions  were  observed 
with  extreme  care,  present  the  ancient  traditions  of  mythological 
episodes  in  all  their  purity.  Those  of  a  later  period  represent 
subjects  taken  from  the  tragic  writers.  Lastly,  on  those  of  the 
decline,  we  see  depicted  the  new  ceremonies  and  superstitions 
which  were  mingled  with  the  ancient  and  simple  religion  of  the 
Greek.  Painted  vases  are,  therefore,  of  the  greatest  interest  for 
the  study  of  the  manners  and  customs  of  ancient  Greece,  and  of 
tho';(>  which  the  Romans  adopted  from  her  in  imitation. 


USES    OF    VASES. 


335 


As  to  the  uses  of  these  vases,  there  have  been  a  variety  of 
opinions ;  but  a  careful  examination  of  a  great  number  of  vases 
would  lead  us  to  suppose  that  many  were,  doubtless,  articles  of 
household  furniture,  for  use  and  adornment,  such  as  the  larger 
vases,  destined,  by  their  size,  weight,  and  form,  to  remain  in  the 
same  place,  while  others,  of  different  sizes  and  shapes,  were  made 
to  hold  wine  and  other  liquids,  unguents,  and  perfumes.  It  is 
evident  that  they  were  more  for  ornament  than  use,  and  that  they 
were  considered  as  objects  of  art,  for  the  paintings  seem  to  have 
been  executed  by  the  best  artists  of  the  period.  They  were 
chiefly  employed  for  entertainments,  and  the  banquets  of  the 
wealthy.  They  are  seen  in  use  in  scenes  painted  on  the  vases 
themselves.  Many,  especially  those  of  the  later  style,  were  solely 
used  for  decorative  purposes,  as  is  evident  from  the  fact  of  one 
side  only  being  executed  with  care,  while  the  other  has  been 
neglected,  both  in  the  drawing  and  in  tlie  subject.  Those  with 
Panathenaic  subjects  were  probably  given  full  of  oil,  as  prizes  at 
the  national  games.  These  were  called  Aihia.  Certain  vases 
bearing  the  inscription,  "  From  Athens,"  or  "  Prize  from  Athens,'* 
seem  to  have  been  given  to  the  victors  in  the  pentathlon,  or  courses 
of  athletic  exercises  in  the  Panathensea.  Others  may  have  been 
given  at  the  palajstric  festivals,  or  as  nuptial  presents,  or  as 
pledges  of  love  and  friendship;  and  these  are  marked  by  some 
appropriate  inscription. 

We  find  that  they  were  also  used  in  the  ceremonies  of  the 
Mysteries,  for  we  see  their  forms  represented  on  the  vases  them- 
selves: Bacchus  frequently  holds  a  cantharus.  Satyrs  carry  a  diota. 
A  few  seem  to  have  been  expressly  for  sepulchral  purposes.  Some 
have  supposed  that  these  vases  were  intended  to  hold  the  ashes 
of  the  dead;  but  this  could  not  have  been  their  use,  for  they  are 
only  found  in  tombs  in  which  the  bodies  have  been  buried  with- 
out being  burnt.  The  piety  of  the  relations  adorned  the  tomb  of 
the  deceased   with  those  vases,   together  with    his    armor   and 


33^ 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


jewelry,  which  they  had  prized  most  in  Hfe,  which  were  associ- 
ated with  their  habits,  or  recalled  circumstances  the  memory  of 
which  they  cherished. 

We  could  not  but  feel  astonished  at  the  perfect  preservation 
of  such  fragile  objects,  did  we  not  know  that  they  were  found  in 
tombs.  Those  in  which  they  are  found,  are  placed  near  the  walls, 
but  outside  the  town,  at  a  slight  depth,  except  those  of  Nola, 
where  the  eruptions  of  Vesuvius  have  considerably  raised  the 
soil  since  the  period  when  the  tombs  were  made,  so  that  some  of 

the  tombs  of  Nola  are  about 
twenty-one  feet  under  ground. 
In  Greece,  the  graves  are 
generally  small,  being  de- 
signed for  single  corpses, 
which  accounts  for  the  com- 
paratively small  size  of  the 
vases  discovered  in  that  coun- 
try. At  Athens  the  earlier 
graves  are  sunk  deepest  in 
the  soil,  and  those  at  Corinth, 
especially  such  as  contain 
the  early  Corinthian  vases, 
are  found  by  boring  to  a 
depth  of  several  feet  beneath 
the  surface. 

The  earl}^  tombs  of  Civita 
Vecchia,  and  Caere,  or  Cer- 
vetri,  in  Italy,  are  tunneled 
in  the  earth;  and  those  at 
Vulci,  and  in  the  Etruscan 
territory,  from  which  the  finest  and  largest  vases  have  been 
extracted,  are  chambers  hewn  in  the  rocks.  In  southern  Italy, 
especially  in  Campania,   the  common  tombs  are  constructed  of 


A   GREKK   SACRIFICE. 


VASES    FOUND    IN    TOMBS. 


337 


rude  stones  or  tiles,  and  are  exactly  of  sufficient  size  to  contain 
a  corpse  and  live  or  six  vases;  a  small  one  is  placed  near  the 
head,  and  the  others  between  the  legs  of  the  body,  or  they  are 
ranged  on  each  side,  frequently  on  the  left  side  alone. 

The  number  and  beauty  of  the  vases  vary,  probably,  accord- 
ing to  the  rank  and  fortune  of  the  owner  of  the  tomb.  The 
tombs  of  the  first  class  are  larger,  and  have  been  built  with  large 
cut  stones,  and  rarely  connected  with  cement;  the  walls  inside  are 
coated  with  stucco,  and  adorned  with  paintings;  these  tombs  re- 
semble a  small  chamber;  the  corpse  is  laid  out  in  the  middle,  the 
vases  are  placed  round  it,  frequently  some  others  are  hung  up  to 
the  walls  on  nails  of  bronze.  The  number  of  vases  is  always 
greater  in  these  tombs;  they  are  also  of  a  more  elegant  form. 

Several  other  articles  are  sometimes  found  in  the  tombs, 
such  as  gold  and  silver  fibulae,  swords,  spears,  armor,  and  several 
ornaments.  The  objects  buried  with  the 
corpse  generally  bespeak  the  tastes  and  M 
occupation  of  the  deceased.  Warriors  are 
found  with  their  armor,  women  with  or- 
naments for  the  toilet,  priests  with  their 
sacerdotal  ornaments,  as  in  the  tomb  at 
Cervetri.  When  the  vases  are  taken  out 
of  the  excavations,  they  are  covered  with 
a  coating  of  whitish  earth,  something  like 
tartar,  and  of  a  calcareous  nature ;  it  dis- 
appears on  the  application  of  aqua  fortis. 
This  operation  ought  to  be  done  with 
great  caution;  for  though  the  aqua  fortis 
does  not  injure  the  black  varnish,  it  might  destrov  some  of  the 
other  colors. 

Some  of  these  vases  are  as  well  preserved  as  if  they  had  just 
been  issued  from  the  hands  of  the  potter;  others  have  been  greatly 
injured  by  the  earthy  salts  with  which  they  have  come  in  contact ; 

22 


2000    YEARS   OLD. 


338 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


many  are  found  broken — these  have  been  put  together  and  re- 
stored with  great  skill.  But  this  work  of  i-estoration,  especially 
if  the  artist  adds  any  details  which  are  not  visible  on  the  original, 
mio-ht  alter  or  metamorphose  a  subject,  and  the  archaeologist 
ought  to  set  little  value  on  these  modern  additions,  in  the  study 
of  a  painted  vase. 

Several  collections  have  been  formed  of  these  vases.  The 
British  Museum  contains  the  finest  collections,  purchased  by  gov- 
ernment from  Sir  William  Hamilton  and  others.  The  Museum 
at  Naples,  and  the  Gregorian  Museum  in  the  Vatican,  also  con- 
tain many  beautiful  specimens  from  Magna  Grsecia  and  Etruria. 
The  British  Museum  has  about  2,600  vases  of  all  kinds.  The 
Museum  at  Naples  contains  about  2,100,  and  the  Gregorian 
Museum  at  Rome  about  1,000.  Several  amateurs  have  also 
formed  collections  in  England,  France,  and  Italy.  We  may  men- 
tion those  of  Roger,  Hope,  Sir  Harry  Englelield,  in  England  ; 
those  of  the  Due  de  Blacas,  the  Comte  Pourtales,  in  France;  and 
that  of  the  Marquis  Campana,  in  Rome.  The  total  number  of 
vases  in  public  and  private  collections  probably  amounts  to  15,000 
of  all  kinds.  Some  of  these  collections  have  been  published,  such 
as  the  first  collection  of  Sir  William  Hamilton,  explained  by 
d'Hancarville;  the  second  by  Tischbein.  Several  works  have 
also  been  published,  giving  detailed  accounts  of  painted  vases  in 
general. 

We  have  mentioned  before  the  luxurious  custom,  common 
amongst  the  Romans  after  the  conquest  of  Greece  and  Asia,  of 
having  their  utensils  of  the  table,  and  even  of  the  kitchen,  made 
of  solid  silver.  Valuable  plate  was  of  common  occurrence  in 
the  houses  of  the  rich.  According  to  Pliny,  common  soldiers 
had  the  handles  of  their  swords  and  their  belts  studded  with  sil- 
ver; the  baths  of  women  were  covered  with  the  same  valuable 
material,  which  was  even  used  for  the  common  implements  of 
kitchen  and  scullery.     Large  manufactories  of  silver  utensils  were 


SILVER    VESSELS. 


339 


started,  in  which  each  part  of  the  work  was  assigned  to  a  special 
artificer;  here  the  orders  of  the  silver-merchants  were  executed. 
Amongst  the  special  workmen  of  these  manufactories  were 
the  modelers,  founders,  turners  or  polishers,  chiselers,  the 
workmen  who  attached  the  bas-reliefs  to  the  surface  of  the  ves- 
sel, and  the  gilders.  Many  valuable  vessels  have  been  recov- 
ered in  the  present  century;  others  (for  instance,  several  hundred 


FOUND   AT    niLDESHEIM. 


silver  vessels  found  near  the  old  Falerii)  have  tracelessly  disap- 
peared. Amongst  the  discoveries  which  happily  have  escaped 
the  hands  of  the  melter,  we  mention  the  treasure  of  more  than 
one  hundred  silver  vessels,  weighing  together  about  50  pounds, 
found  by  Berney  in  Normandy  (1830).  According  to  their  in- 
scriptions, these  vessels  belonged  to  the  treasury  of  a  temple  of 
Mercury ;  they  are  at  present  in  the  late  imperial  library  at  Paris. 
In  the  south  of  Russia  the  excavations  carried  on  in  1831,  1862, 


340 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


and  1S63,  amongst  the  graves  of  the  kings  of  the  Bosphoric  em- 
pire, have  yielded  an  astonishing  number  of  gold  and  silver  ves- 
sels and  ornaments  belonging  to  the  third  century  of  our  era. 
At  Pompeii  fourteen  silver  vases  were  discovered  in  1835;  at 
Cctre  (1836)  a  number  of  silver  vases  (now  in  the  Museo  Grego- 


FOUND  AT  HiLDESHEiM.     (Of  the  first  centuvy) 

riano)  were  found  in  a  grave.  One  of  the  most  interesting  dis- 
coveries was  made  near  Hildesheim,  7th  October,  1868,  consist- 
ing of  seventy-four  eating  and  drinking  vessels,  mostly  well  pre- 
served; not  to  speak  of  numerous  fragments  which  seem  to  prove 
that  only  part  of  the  original  treasure  has  been  recovered;  the 
weight  of  all  the  vessels  (now  in  the  Antiquarium  of  the  Royal 
Museum,  Berlin)  amounts  to  107.144  lbs.,  some  over  53  tons,  of 
silver.  The  style  and  technical  hnish  of  the  vases  prove  them 
to  have  been  manufactured  in  Rome;  the  form  of  the  letters  of 


DECORATED    VASES. 


341 


VASE   Ot    IHK   FllibT   CKM'ORY 


the  inscriptions  found  on  twenty-four  vessels  indicates  the  first 
hah'  of  the  first  century  after  Christ.  The  surfaces  of  many  of 
them  are  covered  with  alto-rehevos  of  beaten  silver — a  circum- 
stance which  traces  back  their  origin  to  imperial  times,  dis- 
tino-uishing  them,  at  the  same  time,  from  the  bas-relief  orna- 
mentations of  the  acme  of 
Greek  art.  The  gilding 
of  the  draperies  and  weap- 
ons, and  the  silver  color 
of  the  naked  parts,  in  imi- 
tation, as  it  were,  of  the 
gold-and-ivory  statues  of 
Greek  art,  also  indicate 
Roman  workmanship.  The 
annexed  cuts  show  some 
of  the  finest  pieces  of  this 
treasure.  The  composition 
of  the  figures  on  the  surface  of  the  vase  in  cut  on  page  340  shows 
true  artistic  genius;  naked 
children  are  balancing  them-  ^^ 
selves  on  water-plants  grow- 
ing in  winding  curves  from 
a  pair  of  griffins ;  some  of  the 
children  attack  crabs  and  eels 
with  harpoons,  while  others 
drag  the  killed  animals  from 
the  water.  The  graceful 
groups  on  the  drinking-vessels  in  the  above  cuts  are  mostly 
taken  from  the  Bacchic  cycle  of  myths. 

Besides  vessels  of  precious  metals  and  stones,  those  of  glass 
were  in  favorite  use  among  the  Romans.  The  manufactory  of 
glass,  originating  in  Sidon,  had  reached  its  climax  of  perfection, 
both  with  regard  to  color  and   form,   in   Alexandria  about  the 


VASE   OF   THE   FIRST  CENTURY. 


34' 


DOMESTIC    UTENSILS. 


time  of  the  Ptolemies.  Many  of  these  Alexandrine  glasses  have 
been  preserved  to  us,  and  their  beauty  fully  explains  their  supe- 
riority in  the  opinion  of  the  ancients  to  those  manufactured  in 
Italy.  Here  also,  after  the  discovery  of  excellent  sand  at  Cumse 
and  Linternum,  glass  works  had  been  established.  Most  of  our 
museums  possess  some  specimens  of  antique  glass  manufacture, 
in  the  shape  of  balsam  or  medicine  bottles  of  white  or  colored 
glass.  We  also  possess  goblets  and  drinking-bottles  of  various 
shapes  and  sizes,  made  of  white  or  common  green  glass;  they 
generally  taper  toward  the  bottom,  and  frequently  show  grooves 
or  raised  points  on  their  outer  surfaces,  so  as  to  prevent  the  glass 
from  slipping  from  the  hand;  urns,  oinochoai,  and  dishes  of 
various  sizes  made  of  glass,  are  of  frequent  occurrence.  Some 
of  these  are  dark  blue  or  green,  others  party-colored  with  stripes 
winding  round  them  in  zigzag  or  in  spiral  lines,  reminding  one 
of  mosaic  patterns.  Pieces  of  glittering  glass,  being  most  likely 
fragments  of  so-called  allassontes  versicolores  (not  to  be  mistaken 
for  originally  white  glass  which  has  been  discolored  by  exposure 
to  the  weather),  are  not  unfrequently  found.  We  propose  to 
name  in  the  following  pages  a  few  of  the  more  important  speci- 
mens of  antique  glass-fabrication.  One  of  the  first  amongst 
these  is  the  vessel  known  as  the  Barberini  or  Portland  Vase, 
which  was  found  in  the  sixteenth  century  in  the  sarcophagus  of 
the  so-called  tomb  of  Severus  Alexander  and  of  his  mother  Julia 
Mamm?ea.  It  was  kept  in  the  Barberini  Palace  for  several 
centuries,  till  it  was  purchased  by  the  Duke  of  Portland,  after 
whose  death  it  was  placed  in  the  British  Museum.  After  having 
been  broken  by  the  hand  of  a  barbarian,  it  has  fortunately  been 
restored  satisfactorily.  Many  reproductions  of  this  vase  in  china 
and  terra-cotta  have  made  it  known  in  wide  circles.  The  mytho- 
logical bas-reliefs  have  not  as  yet  been  sufficiently  explained. 
Similar  glass  vases  with  bas-relief  ornamentation  occur  occasion- 
ally either  whole  or   in    fragments. 


S^]viff.^py^jvij;jJ7- 


Many  arts  and  inventions  were  in  common  use  in  Egypt  for 
centuries  before  they  are  generally  supposed  to  have  been  known; 
and  we  are  now  and  then  as  much  surprised  to  find  that  certain 
things  were  old  3,000  years  ago,  as  the  Egyptians  would  be  if  they 
could  hear  us  talk  of  them  as  late  discoveries.  One  of  them  is 
the  use  of  glass,  with  which  they  were  acquainted  at  least  as 
early  as  the  reign  of  the  first  Osirtasen,  more  than  3,800  years 
ago;  and  the  process  of  glass-blowing  is  represented  during  his 
reign,  in  the  paintings  of  Beni  Hassan,  in  the  same  manner  as  it 
is  on  later  monuments,  in  different  parts  of  Egypt,  to  the  time 
of  the  Persian  conquest. 

The  form  of  the  bottle  and  the  use  of  the  blow-pipe  are  un 
equivocally  indicated  in  those  subjects ;  and  the  green  hue  of  the 
fused  material,  taken  from  the  fire  at  the  point  of  the  pipe,  suffi- 
ciently proves  the  intention  of  the  artist.  But,  even  if  we  had 
not  this  evidence  of  the  use  of  glass,  it  would  be  shown  by  those 
well-known  images  of  glazed  pottery,  which  were  common  at  the 
same  period ;  the  vitrified  substance  that  covers  them  being  of  the 
same  quality  as  glass,  and  containing  the  same  ingredients  fused 
in  the  same  manner.  And  besides  the  many  glass  ornaments 
known  to  be  of  an  earlier  period  is  a  bead,  found  at  Thebes, 
bearing  the  name  of  a  Pharaoh  who  lived  about  1450  B.  C,  the 
specific  gravity  of  which,  25°  23',  is  precisely  the  same  as  of 
crown  glass,  now  manufactured  in  England. 

343 


344 


EMPLOYMENT. 


Glass  bottles  are  even  met  with  on  monuments  of  the  4th 
dynasty,  dating  long  before  the  Osirtasens,  or  more  than  4,000 
years  ago;  the  transparent  substance  shows  the  red  wine  they 
contained;  and  this  kind  of  bottle  is  represented  in  the  same 
manner  among  the  offerings  to  the  gods,  and  at  the  fetes  of  indi- 
viduals, wherever  wine  was  introduced,  from  the  earliest  to  the 
latest  times.  Bottles,  and  other  objects  of  glass,  are  commonly 
found  in  the  tombs;  and  though  they  have  no  kings' names  or 
dates  inscribed  upon  them  (glass  being  seldom  used  for  such  a 
purpose),  no  doubt  exists  of  their  great  antiquity;  and  we  may 
consider  it  a  fortunate  chance  that  has  preserved  one  bead  with 
the  name  of  a  sovereign  of  the  i8th  dynasty.  Nor  is  it  necessary 
to  point  out  how  illogical  is  the  inference  that,  because  other 
kinds  of  glass  have  not  been  found  bearing  a  king's  name, 
they  were  not  made  in  Egypt,  at,  or  even  before,  the  same  early 
period. 

Pliny  ascribes  the  discovery  of  glass  to  some  Phoenician 
sailors  accidently  lighting  a  fire  on  the  sea-shore;  but  if  an  effect 
of  chance,  the  secret  is  more  likely  to  have  been  arrived  at  in 
Egypt,  where  natron  (or  subcarbonate  of  soda)  abounded,  than 
by  the  sea  side;  and  if  the  PhcenicianS  really  were  the  lirst  to 
discover  it  on  the  Syrian  coast,  this  would  prove  their  migration 
from  the  Persian  Gulf  to  have  happened  at  a  very  remote  period. 
Glass  was  certainly  one  of  the  great  exports  of  the  Phoenicians; 
who  traded  in  beads,  bottles,  and  other  objects  of  that  material, 
as  well  as  various  manufactures,  made  either  in  their  own  or  in 
other  countries;  but  Egypt  was  always  famed  for  its  manufacture; 
a  peculiar  kind  of  earth  was  found  near  Alexandria,  without 
which,  Strabo  says,  "  it  was  impossible  to  make  certain  kinds 
of  glass  of  many  colors,  and  of  a  brilliant  quality,"  and  some 
vases,  presented  by  an  Egyptian  priest  to  the  Emperor  Hadrian, 
were  considered  so  curious  and  valuable  that  they  were  only  used 
on  irrand  occasions. 


COJ.ORED    GLASS    VESSELS.  345 

Glass  bottles,  ol"  various  colors,  were  eagen^  Dought  from 
Egypt,  and  exported  into  other  countries;  and  the  manufacture  as 
well  as  the  patterns  of  many  of  those  found  in  Greece,  Etruria, 
and  Rome,  show  that  they  were  of  Egyptian  work ;  and  though 
imitated  in  Italy  and  Greece,  the  original  art  was  borrowed  from 
the  workmen  of  the  Nile. 

Such,  too,  was  their  skill  in  making  glass,  and  in  the  mode  of 
staining  it  of  various  hues,  that  they  counterfeited  with  success 
the  emerald,  the  amethyst,  and  other  precious  stones;  and  even 
arrived  at  an  excellence  in  the  art  of  introducing  numerous 
colors  into  the  same  vase,  to  which  our  European  workmen,  in 
spite  of  their  improvements  in  many  branches  of  this  manufac- 
ture, are  still  unable  to  attain.  A  few  years  ago  the  glass- makers 
of  Venice  made  several  attempts  to  imitate  the  variety  of  colors 
found  in  antique  cups;  but  as  the  component  parts  were  of  dif- 
ferent densities,  they  did  not  all  cool,  or  set,  at  the  same  rapidity, 
and  the  vase  was  unsound.  And  it  is  only  by  making  an  inner 
foundation  of  one  color,  to  which  those  of  the  outer  surface  are 
afterwards  added,  that  they  have  been  able  to  produce  their 
many -colored  vases;  some  of  which  were  sent  to  the  Great  Exhi- 
bition of  1 85 1. 

Not  so  the  Egyptians,  who  combined  all  the  colors  they  re- 
quired in  the  same  cup,  without  the  interior  lining:  those  which 
had  it  being  of  inferior  and  cheaper  quality.  They  had  even  the 
secret  of  introducing  gold  between  two  surfaces  of  glass;  and  in 
their  bottles,  a  gold  band  alternates  within  a  set  of  blue,  green, 
and  other  colors.  Another  curious  process  was  also  common  in 
Egypt  in  early  times,  more  than  3,000  years  ago,  which  has  oniy 
just  been  attempted  at  Venice ;  whereby  the  pattern  on  the  surface 
was  made  to  pass  in  right  lines  directly  through  the  substance; 
so  that  if  any  number  of  horizontal  sections  were  made  through 
it,  each  one  would  have  the  same  device  on  its  upper  and  under 
surface.     It  is  in  fact  a  Mosaic  in  glass;  made  by  fusing  together 


346 


EMPLOYMEN'l 


as  many  delicate  rods  of  an  opaque  glass  of  the  color  required  for 
the  picture,  in  the  same  manner  as  the  woods  in  Tunbridge-ware 
are  glued  together,  to  torm  a  larger  and  coarser  paitern.  The 
skill  required  in  this  exquisite  work  is  not  only  shown  by  the  art 
itself,  but  the  fineness  of  the  design ;  for  some  of  the  feathers  of 


AirciENT  GLASS  VESSELS. 


birds,  and  other  details,  are  only  to  be  made  out  with  a  lens; 
which  means  of  magnifying  was  evidently  used  in  Egypt,  when 
this  Mosaic  glass  was  manufactured.  Indeed,  the  discovery  of  a 
lens  of  crystal  by  Mr.  Layard,  at  Nimroud,  satisfactorily  proves 
its  use  at  an  early  period  in  Assyria  ;  and  we  may  conclude 
that  it  was  neither  a  recent  discovery  there,  nor  confined  to 
that  country. 

Winkleman  is  of  opinion  that  "  the  ancients  carried  the  art 


IMITATION    JEWELS. 


347 


GLASS  BROACUES. 


of  glass-making  to  a  higher  degree  of  perfection  than  ourselves, 
though  it  may  appear  a  paradox  to  those  who  liave  not  seen  their 
works  in  this  material;""  and  we  may  even  add  that  they  used  it 
for  more  purposes,  excepting  of  course  windows,  the  inconvenience 
of  which  in  the  hot  sun  of  Egypt  would  have  been  unbearable, 
or  even  in  Italy,  and  only  one 
pane  of  glass  has  been  found 
at  Pompeii,  in  a  place  not 
exposed  to  the  outer  light. 

That  the  Egyptians,  more 
than  3,000  years  ago,  were 
well  acquainted  not  only  with 
the  manufacture  of  common 
glass,  for  beads  and  bottles  of 
ordin?.i-y  quality,  but  with 
the  art  of  staining  it  with 
divers  colors,  is  sufficiently  proved  by  the  fragments  found 
in  the  tombs  of  Thebes;  and  so  skillful  were  they  in  this  compli- 
cated process,  that  they  imitated  the  most  fanciful  devices,  and 
succeeded  in  counterfeiting  the  rich  hues,  and  brilliancy,  of 
precious  stones.  The  green  emerald,  the  purple  amethyst,  and 
other  expensive  gems,  were  successfully  imitated;  a  necklace  of 
false  stones  could  be  purchased  at  an  Egyptian  jeweler's,  to  please 
the  wearer,  or  deceive  a  stranger,  by  the  appearance  of  reality; 
and  some  mock  pearls  (found  lately  at  Thebes)  have  been  so 
well  counterfeited,  that  even  now  it  is  difficult  with  a  strong  lens 
to  detect  the  imposition. 

Pliny  says  the  emerald  was  more  easily  counterfeited  than 
any  other  gem,  and  considers  the  art  of  imitating  precious  stones 
a  far  more  lucrative  piece  of  deceit  than  any  devised  by  the  inge- 
nuity of  man;  Egypt  was,  as  usual,  the  country  most  noted  for 
this  manufacture;  and  we  can  readily  believe  that  in  Pliny's  time 
they  succeeded  so  completely  in  the  imitation  as  to  render  it  dif- 
ficult to  distinguish  false  from  real  stones. 


348 


EMPLOYMENT. 


Man}-,  in  the  form  of  beads,  have  been  met  with  in  different 
parts  of  Egypt,  particularly  at  Thebes;  and  so  far  did  the  Egyp 
tians  carry  this  spirit  of  imitation,  that  even  small  figures,  scara- 
baii,  and  objects  made  of  ordinary  porcelain,  were  counterfeited, 
being  composed  of  still  cheaper  materials.  A  figure,  which 
was  entirely  of  earthenware,  with  a  glazed  exterior,  underwent  a 
somewhat  more  complicated  process  than  when  cut  out  of  stone- 
and  sinipl}'  covered  with  a  vitrified  coating;  this  last  could,  there- 
fore, be  sold  at  a  low  price;  it  offered  all  the  brilliancy  of  the 
former,  and  its  weight  alone  betrayed  its  inferiority;  by  which 
means,  whatever  was  novel,  or  pleasing  from  its  external  appear- 


IMITATION   OP   REAL   6T0NES. 


ance,  was  placed  within  reach  of  all  classes,  or,  at  least,  the 
possessor  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeming  to  partake  in  each  fash- 
ionable novelty. 

Such  inventions,  and  successful  endeavors  to  imitate  costly 
ornaments  by  humbler  materials,  not  only  show  the  progress  of 
art  among  the  Egyptians,  but  strongly  argue  the  great  advance- 
ment they  had  made  in  the  customs  of  civilized  life;  since  it  is 
certain,  that  until  society  has  arrived  at  a  high  degree  of  luxur}'' 
and  refinement,  artificial  wants  of  this  nature  are  not  created,  and 
the  poorer  classes  do  not  yet  feel  the  desire  of  imitating  the  rich, 
in  the  adoption  of  objects  dependent  on  taste  or  accidental  caprice. 

Glass  bugles  and  beads  were  much  used  b}'  the  Egyptians 
for  necklaces,  and  for  a  sort  ol"  network,  with  which  they  covered 


POTTERS. 


349 


the  wrappers  and  cartonage  of  mummies.  They  were  arranged 
so  as  to  form,  by  their  varied  hues,  numerous  devices  or  figures, 
in  the  manner  of  our  bead  purses ;  and  women  sometimes  amused 
themselves  by  stringing  them  lor  ornamental  purposes,  as  at  the 
present  day. 

A  far  more  numerous  class  were  the  potters;  and  all  the 
processes  of  mixing  the  clay,  and  of  turning,  baking  and  polish- 
ing the  vases  are  represented  in  the  tombs  of  Thebes  and  Beni 
Hassan,  of  which  we  have  already  spoken. 

They  frequently  kneaded  the  clay  with  their  feet,  and  after 
it  had  been  properly  worked  up,  they  formed  it  into  a  mass  of 
convenient  size  with  the  hand,  and  placed  it  on  the  wheel,  which 
was  of  very  simple  construction,  and  generally  turned  with  the 
hand.  The  various  forms  of  the  vases  were  made  out  by  the 
hnger  during  the  revolution;  the  handles,  if  they  had  any,  were 
afterwards  affixed  to  them;  and  the  devices  and  other  orna- 
mental parts  were  traced  with  a  wooden  or  metal  instrument, 
previous  to  their  being  baked.  The}'  were  then  suffered  to  dry, 
and  for  this  purpose  were  placed  on  planks  of  wood ;  they  were 
afterwards  arranged  with  great  care  in  trays,  and  carried,  by 
means  of  the  usual  yoke,  borne  on  men's  shoulders,  to  the  oven. 

The  Egyptians  displayed  much  taste  in  their  gold,  silver, 
porcelain,  and  glass  vases,  but  when  made  of  earthenware,  for 
ordinary  purposes,  they  were  frequently  devoid  of  elegance,  and 
scared}'  superior  to  those  of  England  before  the  taste  of  Wedge- 
wood  substituted  the  graceful  forms  of  Greek  models,  for  some 
of  the  unseemly  productions  of  our  old  potteries.  Though  the 
clay  of  Upper  Egypt  was  particularly  suited  to  porous  bottles,  it 
could  be  obtained  of  a  sufficiently  fine  quality  for  the  manufac- 
ture of  vases  like  those  of  Greece  and  Italy;  in  Egypt,  too,  good 
taste  did  not  extend  to  all  classes,  as  in  Greece ;  and  vases  used 
tor  fetching  water  from  a  well,  or  from  the  Nile,  were  of  a  very 
ordinary  kind,  far  inferior  to  those  carried  by  the  Athenian  wo- 
men to  the  fountain  of  Kallirhoe. 


350 


EMPLOYMENT. 


The  Greeks,  it  is  true,  were  indebted  to  Egypt  lor  much 
usel'ul  knowledge,  and  tor  many  early  hints  in  art,  but  they 
speedily  surpassed  their  instructors;  and  in  nothing,  perhaps, 
is  this  more  strikingly  manifested  than  in  the  productions  of  the 
potter.     Samples  of  the  more  common  are  seen  below. 

Carpenters  and  cabinet-makers  were  a  very  numerous  class 
of  workmen;  and  their  occupations  form  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant subjects  in  the  paintings  which  represent  the  Egyptian 
trades. 

For  ornamental  purposes,  and  sometimes  even  for  coffins, 
doors  and  boxes,  foreign  woods  were  emplo3ed;  deal  and  cedar 
were  imported  from  Syria;  and  part  of  the  contributions,  exacted 


ANCIENT  EGYPTIAN  POTTERY. 


from  the  conquered  tribes  of  Ethiopia,  and  Asia,  consisted  in 
ebony  and  other  rare  woods,  which  were  annually  brought  by 
the  chiefs,  deputed  to  present  their  country's  tribute  to  the 
Egyptian  Pharaohs. 

Boxes,  chairs,  tables,  sofas,  and  other  pieces  of  furniture 
were  frequently  made  of  ebony,  inlaid  with  ivory,  sycamore  and 
acacia,  were  veneered  with  thin  layers,  or  ornamented  with  carved 
devices  of  rare  wood,  applied  or  let  into  them;  and  a  fondness  for 
this  display  suggested  to  the  Egyptians  the  art  of  painting  com- 
mon boards,  to  imitate  foreign  varieties,  so  generally  adopted  in 
other  countries  at  the  present  day. 

The  colors  were  usually  applied  on  a  thin  coating  of  stucco, 
laid  smoothly  upon  the  previously  prepared  wood,  and  the  vari- 
ous knots  and  grains  painted  upon  this  ground  indicated  the 
quality  of  the  wood  they  intended  to  counterfeit. 


carpenter's  tools. 


351 


The  usual  tools  of  the  carpenter  were  the  ax,  adze,  hand- 
saw, chisels  of  various  kinds  (which  were  struck  with  a  wooden 
mallet),  the  drill,  and  two  sorts  of  planes  (one  resembling  a 
chisel,  the  other  apparently  of  stone,  acting  as  a  rasp  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  wood,  which  was  afterwards  polished  by  a  smooth 
body,  probably  also  of  stone;  and  these,  with  the  ruler,  plummet, 
and  right  angle,  a  leather  bag  containing  nails,  the  hone,  and  the 
horn  of  oil,  constituted  the  principal,  and  perhaps  the  only,  im- 
plements he  used. 

Many  adzes,  saws  and  chisels,  have  been  found  at  Thebes. 
The  blades  are  all  of  bronze,  the  handles  of  the  acacia  or  the 
tamarisk;  and  the  general  mode  of  fastening  the  blade  to  the 
handle  appears  to  have  been  Ly  thongs  of  hide.  It  is  probable 
that  some  of  those  discovered  in  the  tombs  are  only  models,  or 
unfinished  specimens,  and  it  may  have  been  thought  sufficient  to 
show  their  external  appearance,  without  the  necessity  of  nailing 
them,  beneath  the  thongs,  for  those  they  worked  with  were 
bound  in  the  same  manner,  though  we  believe  them  to  have  been 
also  secured  with  nails.  Some,  however,  evidently  belonged  to 
the  individuals  in  whose  tombs  they  were  buried,  and  appear  to 
have  been  used;  and  the  chisels  often  bear  signs  of  having  been 
beaten  with  the  mallet. 

The  drill  is  frequently  represented  in  the  sculptures.  Like 
all  the  other  tools,  it  was  of  the  earliest  date,  and  precisely  sim- 
ilar to  that  of  modern  Egypt,  even  to  the  nut  of  the  dom  in 
which  it  turned,  and  the  form  of  its  bow  with  a  leathern  thong. 

The  chisel  was  employed  for  the  same  purposes,  and  in  the 
same  manner,  as  at  the  present  day,  and  was  struck  with  a 
wooden  mallet,  sometimes  flat  at  the  two  ends,  sometimes  of 
circular  or  oval  form;  several  of  which  last  have  been  found  at 
Thebes,  and  are  in  European  museums.  The  handles  of  the 
chisel  were  of  acacia,  tamarisk,  or  other  compact  wood,  the 
blades  of  bronze,  and  the  form  of  the  points  varied  in  breadth, 
according  to  the  work  for  which  they  were  intended. 


352 


EMPLOYMENT. 


The  hatchet  was  principally  used  by  boat-builders,  and  those 
who  made  large  pieces  of  trame-work;  and  trees  were  felled 
with  the  same  instrument. 

With  the  carpenters  may  be  mentioned  the  wheelwrights, 
the  makers  of  coffins,  and  the  coopers,  and  this  sub-division  of 
one  class  of  artisans  shows  that  they  had  systematically  adopted 
the  partition  of  labor. 

The  makers  of  chariots  and  traveling  carriages  were  of  the 
same  class;  but  both  carpenters  and  workers  of  leather  were 
employed  in  their  manufacture;  and  chariots  either  passed 
through  the  hands  of  both,  or,  which  is  more  probable,  chariot 
makers  constituted  a  distinct  trade. 

The  tanning  and  preparation  of  leather  was  also  a  branch 
of  art  in  which  the  Egyptians  evinced  considerable  skill;  the 
leather  cutters  constituted  one  of  the  principal  sub-divisions  of 
the  fourth-class,  and  a  district  of  the  city  was  exclusively  appro- 
priated to  them,  in  the  Libyan  part  of  Thebes,  where  they  were 
known  as  "  the  leather-cutters  of  the  Memnonia." 

Manv  of  the  occupations  of  their  trade  are  portrayed  on  the 
painted  walls  of  the  tombs  at  Thebes.  They  made  shoes,  san- 
dals, the  coverings  and  seats  of  chairs  or  sofas,  bow-cases,  and 
most  of  the  ornamental  furniture  of  the  chariot;  harps  were  also 
adorned  with  colored  leather,  and  shields  and  numerous  other 
things  were  covered  with  skin  prepared  in  various  wa3^s.  They 
also  make  skins  for  carrying  water,  wine,  and  other  liquids, 
coated  within  with  a  resinous  substance,  as  is  still  the  custom  in 
Egypt. 

The  stores  of  an  Egyptian  town  were  probably  similar  to 
those  of  Cairo  and  other  Eastern  cities,  which  consist  of  a  square 
room,  open  in  front,  with  falling  or  sliding  shutters  to  close  it  at 
night,  and  tlic  goods,  ranged  on  shelves  or  suspended  against  the 
walls,  arc  exposed  to  the  view  of  those  who  pass.  In  front  is 
generally  a  raised  seat,  where  the  owner  of  the  shop  and   his 


PROFESSIONS. 


353 


customers  sit  during  the  long  process  of  concluding  a  bargain 
previous  to  the  sale  and  purchase  of  the  smallest  article,  and  here 
an  idle  lounger  frequently  passes  whole  hours,  less  intent  on 
benefiting  the  merchant  than  in  amusing  himself  with  the  busy 
scene  of  the  passing  crowd. 

It  is  probable  that,  as  at  the  present  day,  they  ate  in  the 
open  front  of  their  shops,  exposed  to  the  view  of  every  one  who 
passed,  and  to  this  custom  Herodotus  may  allude,  when  he  says, 
"the  Egyptians  eat  in  the  street." 

There  is  no  direct  evidence  that  the  ancient  Egyptians 
affixed  the  name  and  trade  of  the  owner  of  the  shop,  though  the 
presence  of  hieroglyphics,  denoting  this  last,  together  with  the 
emblem  which  indicated  it,  may  seem  to  argue  in  favor  of  the 
question;  and  the  absence  of  many  individuals'  names  in  the 
sculpture  is  readily  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  these  scenes 
refer  to  the  occupation  of  the  whole  trade,  and  not  to  any  partic- 
ular person. 

The  high  estimation  in  which  the  priestly  and  military  pro- 
fessions were  held  in  Egypt  placed  them  far  above  the  rest  of  the 
community;  but  the  other  classes  had  also  their  degrees  of  con- 
sequence, and  individuals  enjoyed  a  position  and  importance  in 
proportion  to  their  respectability,  their  talents,  or  their  wealth. 

According  to  Herodotus,  the  whole  Egyptian  community  was 
divided  into  seven  tribes,  one  of  which  was  the  sacerdotal,  an- 
other of  the  soldiers,  and  the  remaining  five  of  the  herdsmen, 
swineherds,  merchants,  interpreters,  and  boatmen.  Diodorus 
states  that,  like  the  Athenians,  they  were  distributed  into  three 
classes — the  priests,  the  peasants,  or  husbandmen,  from  whom 
the  soldiers  were  levied,  and  the  artisans,  who  were  employed  in 
handicraft  and  other  similar  occupations,  and  in  common  offices 
among  the  people — but  in  another  place  he  extends  the  number 
to  five,  and  reckons  the  pastors,  husbandmen,  and  artificers 
independent   of  the  soldiers  and  priests.     Strabo  limits  them  to 

23 


-j-1  EMPLOYMENT. 

three,  the  military,  husbandmen,  and  priests;  and  Plato  divides 
them  into  six  bodies,  the  priests,  artificers,  shepherds,  huntsmen, 
husbandmen,  and  soldiers;  each  peculiar  art  or  occupation  he 
observes  being  confined  to  a  certain  sub-division  of  the  caste, 
and  every  one  being  engaged  in  his  own  branch  without  inter- 
ferincr  ^vith  the  occupation  of  another.  Hence  it  appears  that 
the  first  class  consisted  of  the  priests,  the  second  of  the  soldiers, 
the  third  of  the  husbandmen,  gardeners,  huntsmen,  boatmen  of 
the  Nile,  and  others;  the  fourth  of  artificers,  tradesmen  and 
merchants,  carpenters,  boat-builders,  masons,  and  probably  pot- 
ters, public  weighers,  and  notaries;  and  in  the  fifth  may  be 
reckoned  pastors,  poulterers,  fowlers,  fishermen,  laborers,  and, 
generally  speaking,  the  common  people.  Many  of  these  were 
again  sub-divided,  as  the  artificers  and  tradesmen,  according  to 
their  peculiar  trade  or  occupation;  and  as  the  pastors,  into  ox- 
herds, shepherds,  goatherds,  and  swineherds,  which  last  were, 
according  to  Herodotus,  the  lowest  grade,  not  only  of  the  class, 
but  of  the  whole  community,  since  no  one  would  either  marr}' 
their  daughters  or  establish  any  famil}^  connection  with  them. 
So  degrading  was  the  occupation  of  tending  swine,  that  they 
were  looked  upon  as  impure,  and  were  even  forbidden  to  enter  a 
temple  without  previously  undergoing  a  purification;  and  the 
prejudices  of  the  Indians  against  this  class  of  persons  almost 
justify  our  belief  in  the  statement  of  the  historian. 

Without  stopping  to  inquire  into  the  relative  rank  of  the 
dirtbrcnt  sub-divisions  of  the  third  class,  the  importance  of  agri- 
culture in  a  countr}^  like  Egypt,  where  the  richness  and  produc- 
tiveness of  the  soil  have  always  been  proverbial,  suffices  to  claim 
the  first  place  for  the  husbandmen. 

The  abundant  supply  of  grain  and  other  produce  gave  to 
Egypt  advantages  which  no  other  country  possessed.  Not  only 
was  her  dense  population  supplied  with  a  profusion  of  the  neces- 
saries of  life,  but  the  sale  of  the  surplus  conferred  considerable 


HUSBANDRY.  355 

benefits  on  the  peasant  in  addition  to  the  profits  which  thence 
accrued  to  the  state,  for  Egypt  was  a  granary,  where,  from  the 
earHest  times,  all  people  felt  sure  of  finding  a  plenteous  store  oi 
corn,  and  some  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  immense  quantity 
produced  there  from  the  circumstance  of  "  seven  plenteous 
years  "  atfording,  from  the  superabundance  of  the  crops,  a  suf- 
ficiency of  corn  to  supply  the  whole  population  during  seven 
years  of  dearth,  as  well  as  "  all  countries  "  which  sent  to  Egypt 
"  to  buy  "  it,  when  Pharaoh,  by  the  advice  of  Joseph,  laid  up 
the  annual  surplus  for  that  purpose. 

The  right  of  exportation,  and  the  sale  of  superfluous  pro- 
duce to  foreigners,  belonged  exclusively  to  the  government,  as  is 
distinctly  shown  by  the  sale  of  corn  to  the  Israelites  from  the 
ro3^al  stores,  and  the  collection  having  been  made  by  Pharaoh 
only;  and  it  is  probable  that  even  the  rich  landowners  were  in 
the  habit  of  selling  to  government  whatever  quantity  remained 
on  hand  at  the  approach  of  each  successive  harvest,  while  the 
agricultural  laborers,  from  their  frugal  mode  of  living,  required 
very  little  wheat  and  barley,  and  were  generally  contented,  as  at 
the  present  day,  with  bread  made  of  the  Doora  flour;  children 
and  even  grown  persons,  according  to  Diodorus,  often  living  on 
roots  and  esculent  herbs,  as  the  papyrus,  lotus,  and  others,  either 
raw,  toasted,  or  boiled. 

The  government  did  not  interfere  directly  with  the  peasants 
respecting  the  nature  of  the  produce  they  intended  to  cultivate; 
and  the  vexations  of  later  times  were  unknown  under  the  Pha- 
raohs. They  were  thought  to  have  the  best  opportunities  of 
obtaining,  from  actual  observation,  an  accurate  knowledge  on  all 
subjects  connected  with  husbandry,  and,  as  Diodorus  observes, 
''  being  from  their  infancy  brought  up  to  agricultural  pursuits, 
they  far  excelled  the  husbandmen  of  other  countries,  and  had 
become  acquainted  with  the  capabilities  of  the  land,  the  mode 
of  irrigation,  the  exact  season  for  sowing  and  reaping,  as  well  as 


356 


EMPLOYMENT. 


all  the  most  useful  secrets  connected  with  the  harvest,  which 
they  had  derived  from  their  ancestors,  and  had  improved  by 
their  own  experience."  "  They  rented,"  says  the  same  historian, 
•'  the  arable  lands  belonging  to  the  kings,  the  priests,  and  the 
military  class,  for  a  small  sum,  and  employed  their  whole  time 
in  the  tillage  of  their  farms,"  and  the  laborers  who  cultivated 
land  for  the  rich  peasant,  or  other  landed  proprietors,  were  super- 
intended by  the  steward  or  owner  of  the  estate,  who  had  author- 
itv  over  them,  and  the  power  of  condemning  delinquents  to  the 
bastinado.  This  is  shown  by  the  paintings  of  the  tombs,  which 
frequently  represent  a  person  of  consequence  inspecting  the  till- 
age of  the  field,  either  seated  in  a  chariot,  walking,  or  leaning 
on  his  staff,  accompanied  by  a  favorite  dog. 

Their  mode  of  irrigation  was  the  same  in  the  field  of  the 
peasant  as  in  the  garden  of  the  villa;  and  the  principal  difference 
in  the  mode  of  tilling  the  former  consisted  in  the  use  of  the  plow. 

The  usual  contrivance  for  raising  water  from  the  Nile  for 
watering  the  crops  was  the  shadoofs  or  pole  and  bucket,  so  com- 
mon still  in  Egypt,  and  even  the  water-wheel  appears  to  have 
been  emplo3'ed  in  more  recent  times. 

The  sculptures  of  the  tombs  frequently  represent  canals  con- 
veying the  water  of  the  inundation  into  the  fields,  and  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  estate  is  seen,  as  described  by  Virgil,  plying  in  a 
light  painted  skiff  or  papyrus  punt,  and  superintending  the  main- 
tenance of  the  dykes,  or  other  important  matters  connected  with 
the  land.  Boats  carry  the  grain  to  the  granary,  or  remove  the 
flocks  from  the  lowlands;  as  the  water  subsides  the  husbandman 
plows  the  soft  earth  with  a  pair  of  oxen,  and  the  same  subjects 
introduce  the  offering  of  first-fruits  of  the  gods  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  benefits  conferred  by  "  a  favorable  Nile."  The 
main  canal  was  usually  carried  to  the  upper  or  southern  side 
of  the  land,  and  small  branches,  leading  from  it  at  intervals, 
traversed  the  fields  in  straight  or  curving  lines,  according  to  the 
nature  or  elevation  of  the  soil. 


RISE    OF    THE    NILE. 


357 


Guards  were  placed  to  watch  the  dykes  which  protected  the 
lowlands,  and  the  utmost  care  was  taken  to  prevent  any  sudden 
influx  of  water  which  might  endanger  the  produce  still  growing 
there,  the  cattle,  or  the  villages.  And  of  such  importance  was 
the  preservation  of  the  dykes  that  a  strong  guard  of  cavalry  and 
infantry  was  always  in  attendance  for  their  protection;  certain 
officers  of  responsibility  were  appointed  to  superintend  them, 
being  furnished  with  large  sums  of  money  for  their  maintenance 
and  repairs,  and  in  the  time  of  Romans  any  person  found  de- 
stroying a  dyke  was  condemned  to  hard  labor  in  the  public 
works  or  in  the  mines,  or  was  branded  and  traisported  to  the 
Oasis.  According  to  Strabo,  the  system  was  so  admirably  man- 
aged, "  that  art  contrived  sometimes  to  supply  what  natui'e  de- 
nied, and,  by  means  of  canals  and  embankments,  there  was 
little  difference  in  the  quantity  of  land  irrigated,  whether  the 
inundation  was  deficient  or  abundant."  "If,''  continues  the  geog- 
rapher, "  it  rose  only  to  the  height  of  eight  cubits,  the  usual 
idea  was  that  a  famine  would  ensue,  fourteen  being  reouired  for 
a  plentiful  harvest;  but  when  Petronius  was  prsefect  of  Egypt 
twelve  cubits  gave  the  same  abundance,  nor  did  they  suffer  from 
want  even  at  eight;"  and  it  may  be  supposed  that  long  experi- 
ence had  taught  the  ancient  Egyptians  to  obtain  similar  results 
from  the  same  means,  which,  neglected  at  a  subsequent  period, 
were  revived,  rather  than,  as  Strabo  thinks,  first  introduced,  by 
the  Romans. 

In  some  parts  of  Egypt  the  villages  were  liable  to  be  over- 
flowed when  the  Nile  rose  to  more  than  an  ordinary  height,  by 
which  the  lives  and  property  of  the  inhabitants  were  endangered, 
and  when  their  crude  brick  houses  had  been  long  exposed  to  the 
damp  the  foundations  gave  way,  and  the  fallen  walls,  saturated 
with  water,  were  once  more  mixed  with  the  mud  from  which 
they  had  been  extracted.  On  these  occasions  the  blessings  of 
the  Nile  entailed  heav}'  losses  on  the  inhabitants,  for,  according 


358 


EMPLOYMENT. 


to  Plinv,  "  if  the  rise  of  water  exceeded  sixteen  cubits  famine 
was  the  result,  as  when  it  only  reached  the  height  of  twelve." 
In  another  place  he  says,  "  a  proper  inundation  is  of  sixteen 
cubits  *■=***  in  twelve  cubits  the  country  suffers  from 
famine,  and  feels  a  deficiency  even  in  thirteen;  fourteen  cause 
joy,  fifteen  security,  sixteen  delight;  the  greatest  rise  of  the 
river  to  this  period  being  of  eighteen  cubits,  in  the  reign  of 
Claudius;  the  least  during  the  Pharsalic  war." 

The  land  being  cleared  of  the  water,  and  presenting  in 
some  places  a  surface  of  liquid  mud,  in  others  nearly  dried  by 
the  sun  and  th  '  strong  northwest  winds  (that  continue  at  inter- 
vals to  the  end  of  Autumn  and  commencement  of  Winter),  the 
husbandman  prepared  the  ground  to  receive  the  seed,  which  was 
either  done  by  the  plow  and  hoe,  or  by  more  simple  means,  ac- 
cording to  the  nature  of  the  soil,  the  quality  of  the  produce  they 
intended  to  cultivate,  or  the  time  the  land  had  remained  under 
water. 

When  the  levels  were  low  and  the  water  had  continued 
long  upon  the  land  they  often  dispensed  with  the  plow,  and,  like 
their  successors,  broke  up  the  ground  with  hoes,  or  simply 
dragefcd  the  moist  mud  with  bushes  after  the  seed  had  been 
thrown  upon  the  surface,  and  then  merely  drove  a  number  of 
cattle,  asses,  pigs,  sheep,  or  goats  into  the  field  to  tread  in  the 
grain.  "  In  no  country,"  says  Herodotus,  "do  they  gather  their 
seed  with  so  little  labor.  They  are  not  obliged  to  trace  deep 
furrows  with  the  plow  and  break  the  clods,  nor  to  partition  out 
their  fields  into  numerous  forms  as  other  people  do,  but  when 
the  river  of  itself  overflows  the  land,  and  the  water  retires  again,. 
they  sow  their  fields,  driving  the  pigs  over  them  to  tread  in  the 
seed,  and  this  being  done  every  one  patiently  awaits  the  har- 
vest." On  other  occasions  they  used  to  plow,  but  were  con- 
tented, as  we  are  told  by  Diodorus  and  Columella,  with  "  tracing 
slight  fiirrows  with  light  plows  on  the  surface  of  the  land,"  and 


AGRICULTURAL    IMPLEMENTS. 


359 


others  followed  with  wooden  hoes  to  break  the  clods  of  the  rich 
and  tenacious  soil. 

The  modern  Egyptians  sometimes  substitute  for  the  hoe  a 
machine  called  hhonfiid^  "  hedgehog,"  which  consists  of  a  cyl- 
inder studded  with  projecting  iron  pins,  to  break  the  clods  after 
the  land  has  been  plowed,  but  this  is  only  used  when  great  care 
is  required  in  the  tillage  of  the  land,  and  they  frequently  dispense 
with  the  hoe,  contenting  themselves,  also,  with  the  same  slight 
furrows  as  their  predecessors,  which  do  not  exceed  the  depth  of 
a  few  inches,  measuring  from  the  lowest  part  to  the  summit  of 
the  ridge.  It  is  difficult  to  say  if  the  modern  Egyptians  derived 
the  hint  of  the  "  hedgehog- "  from  their  predecessors,  but  it  is  a 
curious  fact  that  a  clod-crushing  machine,  not  very  unlike  that 
of  Egypt,  has  only  lately  been  invented  in  England,  which  was 
shown  at  the  Great  Exhibition. 

The  ancient  plow  was  entirely  of  wood,  and  of  as  simple  a 
form  as  that  of  modern  Egypt.  It  consisted  of  a  share,  two 
handles,  and  the  pole  or  beam,  which  last  was  inserted  into  the 
lower  end  of  the  stilt,  or  the  base  of  the  handles,  and  was 
strengthened  by  a  rope  connecting  it  with  the  heel.  It  had  no 
coulter,  nor  were  wheels  applied  to  any  Egyptian  plow,  but  it  is 
probable  that  the  point  was  shod  with  a  metal  sock,  either  of 
bronze  or  iron.  It  was  drawn  by  two  oxen,  and  the  plowman 
guided  and  drove  them  with  a  long  goad,  without  the  assistance 
of  reins,  which  are  used  by  modern  Egyptians.  He  was  some- 
times accompanied  by  another  man,  who  drove  the  animals, 
while  he  managed  the  two  handles  of  the  plow,  and  sometimes 
the  whip  was  substituted  for  the  more  usual  goad. 

Cows  were  occasionally  put  to  the  plow,  and  it  may  not 
have  been  unknown  to  them  that  the  cow  plows  quicker  than 
the  ox. 

The  mode  of  yoking  the  beasts  was  exceedingly  simple. 
Across   the  extremity  of  the  pole,  a  wooden  yoke  or  cross-bar. 


360 


EMPLOYMENT. 


about  lift}--live  inches,  or  live  feet,  in  length  was  fastened  by  a 
strap  lashed  backwards  and  forwards  over  a  prominence  project- 
ino-  from  the  centre  of  the  yoke,  which  corresponded  to  a  similar 
pccj,  or  knob,  at  the  end  of  the  pole,  and,  occasionally,  in  addi- 
tion to  these,  was  a  ring  passing  over  them  as  in  some  Greek 
chariots.  At  either  end  of  the  yoke  was  a  flat  or  slightly  concave 
projection,  of  semi-circular  form,  which  rested  on  a  pad  placed 
upon  the  withers  of  the  animal,  and  through  a  hole  on  either 
side  of  it  passed  a  thong  for  suspending  the  shoulder-pieces 
which  formed  the  collar.  Tliese  were  two  wooden  bars,  forked 
at  about  half  their  length,  padded  so  as  to  protect  the  shoulder 
from  friction,  and  connected  at  the  lower  end  by  a  strong  broad 
band  passing  under  tlie  throat. 

Sometimes  the  draught,  instead  of  being  from  the  withers, 
was  from  the  head,  the  yoke  being  tied  to  the  base  of  the  horns, 
and  in  religious  ceremonies  oxen  frequently  drew  the  bier,  or  the 
sacred  shrine,  by  a  rope  fastened  to  the  upper  part  of  the  horns, 
without  either  yoke  or  pole. 

From  a  passage  in  Deuteronomy,  "  Thou  shalt  not  plow 
with  an  ox  and  an  ass  together,"  it  might  be  inferred  that  the 
custom  of  yoking  two  different  animals  to  the  plow  was  common 
in  Egvpt;  but  it  vv^as  evidently  not  so,  and  the  Hebrew  lawgiver 
had  probably  in  view  a  practice  adopted  by  some  of  the  people 
of  Syria,  whose  country  the  Israelites  were  about  to  occupy. 

The  hoe  was  of  wood,  like  the  fork,  and  many  other  imple- 
ments of  husbandry,  and  in  form  was  not  unlike  the  letter  A, 
with  one  limb  shorter  than  the  other,  and  curving  inwards. 
The  longer  limb,  or  handle,  was  of  uniform  thickness,  round  and 
smooth,  sometimes  with  a  knob  at  the  end,  and  the  lower  ex- 
tremit}-  of  the  blade  was  of  increased  breadth,  and  either  ter- 
minated in  a  sharp  point,  or  was  rounded  at  the  end.  The  blade 
was  frequently  inserted  into  the  handle,  and  they  were  bound 
together,  about  the  centre,  with  twisted   rope.     Being  the  most 


AGRICULTURE.  36 1 

common  tool,  answering  for  hoe,  spade,  and  pick,  it  is  frequently 
represented  in  the  sculptures,  and  several,  which  were  found  in 
the  tombs  of  Thebes,  are  preserved  in  the  museums  of  Europe. 

The  hoe  in  hieroglyphics  stands  for  the  letter  ISI,  though 
the  name  of  this  instrument  was  in  Egyptian,  as  in  Arabic,  Tore. 
It  forms  the  commencement  of  the  word  Mai^  ''  beloved,''  and 
-eaters  into  numerous  other  combinations. 

There  are  no  instances  of  hoes  with  metal  blades,  except  of 
very  late  time,  nor  is  there  any  proof  of  the  plowshare  having 
been  sheathed  with  metal. 

The  ax  had  a  metal  blade,  either  bronze  or  iron,  and  the 
peasants  are  sometimes  represented  felling  trees  with  this  imple- 
ment, while  others  are  employed  in  hoeing  the  field  preparatory 
to  its  being  sown — confirming  what  we  have  observed,  that  the 
ancient,  as  well  as  the  modern,  Egyptians  frequently  dispensed 
with  the  use  of  the  plow. 

The  admission  of  swine  into  the  fields,  mentioned  by  Herod- 
otus, should  rather  have  been  before  than  after  they  had  sown 
the  land,  since  their  habits  would  do  little  good  to  the  farmer, 
and  other  animals  would  answer  as  well  for  "  treading  in  the 
grain;"  but  they  may  have  been  used  before  for  clearing  the 
fields  of  the  roots  and  weeds  encouraged  by  the  inundation;  and 
this  seems  to  be  confirmed  by  the  herd  of  pigs  with  water  plants 
represented  in  the  tombs. 

They  sometimes  used  a  top  dressing  of  nitrous  soil,  which 
was  spread  over  the  surface;  a  custom  continued  to  the  present 
day;  but  this  was  confined  to  certain  crops,  and  principally  to 
those  reared  late  in  the  year,  ihe  fertilizing  properties  of  the 
.alluvial  deposit  answering  all  the  purposes  of  the  richest  manure. 

Besides  the  admixture  of  nitrous  earth  the  Egyptians  made 
use  of  other  kinds  of  dressing,  and  sought  for  different  produc- 
tions the  soils  best  suited  to  them.  They  even  took  advantage 
of  the  ede^e  of  the  desert  for  g'rowins:  the  vine  and  some  other 


362 


EMPLOYMENT, 


plants,  which,  being  composed  01  clay  and  sand,  was  peculiarly 
adapted  to  such  as  required  a  light  soil,  and  the  cultivation  of 
this  additional  tract,  which  only  stood  in  need  of  proper  irriga- 
tion to  become  highly  productive,  had  the  advantage  of  increas- 
ing considerably  the  extent  of  the  arable  land  of  Egypt.  In  many 
places  we  still  tind  evidence  of  its  having  been  tilled  by  the 
ancient  inhabitants,  even  to  the  late  time  of  the  Roman  empire  y 
and  in  some  parts  of  the  Fyoom  the  vestiges  of  beds  and  chan- 
nels for  irrigation,  as  well  as  the  roots  of  vines,  are  found  in  site& 
lying  far  above  the  level  of  the  rest  of  the  country. 

The  occupation  of  the  husbandman  depended  much  on  the 
produce  he  had  determined  on  rearing.  Those  who  solely  culti- 
vated corn  had  little  more  to  do  than  to  await  the  time  of  har- 
vest, but  many  crops  required  constant  attention,  and  some  stood 
in  need  of  frequent  artificial  irrigation. 


]py\KIJNQ,  pYEIJNQ  AJ^ID  pAIJNTINQ. 

The  fame  of  an  actor  has  been  justly  said  to  be  of  all  fame 
the  most  perishable,  because  he  leaves  no  memorial  of  his  powers, 
except  in  the  fading  memories  of  the  generation  which  has  beheld 
him.  An  analogous  proposition  might  be  made  with  respect  to 
the  mechanical  arts:  of  all  sorts  of  knowledge  they  are  the  most 
perishable,  because  the  knowledge  of  them  can  not  be  transmitted 
by  mere  description.  Let  any  great  convulsion  of  nature  put  an 
end  to  their  practice  for  a  generation  or  two,  and  though  the 
scientific  part  of  them  may  be  preserved  in  books,  the  skill  in 
manipulation,  acquired  by  a  long  series  of  improvements,  is  lost. 
If  the  United  States  be  destined  to  relapse  into  such  a  state  of 
barbarism  as  Italy  passed  through  in  the  period  which  divides 
ancient  and  modern  history,  its  inhabitants  a  thousand  years 
hence  will  know  little  more  of  the  manual  process  of  printings 
dyeing,  and  the  other  arts  which  minister  to  our  daily  comfort,  in 
spite  of  all  the  books  which  have  been  and  shall  be  written,  than 
we  know  of  the  manual  processes  of  ancient  Italy.  We  reckon, 
therefore,  among  the  most  interesting  discoveries  of  Pompeii, 
those  which  relate  to  the  manner  of  conducting  handicrafts,  of 
which  it  IS  not  too  much  to  say  that  we  know  nothing  except 
through  this  medium.  It  is  to  be  regretted,  that  as  far  as  our 
information  goes,  there  are  but  two  trades  on  which  any  light  has 
yet  been  thrown,  those,  namely,  of  the  baker  and  the  dyer.  We 
shall  devote  this  chapter  to  collecting  what  is  known  upon  these 
subjects,  and  probably  also  speak  some  on  painting. 

363 


3^4 


EMPLOYMENT. 


Several  bakers'  shops  ha\e  been  found,  all  in  a  tolerable 
state  of  preservation,  'riic  mills,  the  oven,  the  kneading-troiighs, 
tlie  vessels  for  eontaminii"  Hour,  water,  leaven,  have  all  been 
discovered,  and  seem  to  leave  nothing  wanting  to  our  knowledge; 
in  some  of  the  vessels  the  ver}-  tiour  remained,  still  capable  of 
being  identilied,  though  reduced  almost  to  a  cinder.  But  in  the 
centre  some  lumps  of  whitish  matter  resembling  chalk  remained, 
which,  when  welled  and  jilaced  on  a  red-hot  iron,  gave  out  the 
peculiar  color  which  tiour  thus  treated  emits.  Even  the  very 
bread,  in  a  perfect  though  carbonized  form,  has  in  some  instances 
been  found  in  the  o\en.  One  of  these  bakers'  shops  was  attached 
to  the  House  of  Sallust,  another  to  the  House  of  Pansa:  probably 
the\'  were  worth  a  handsome  rent.  A  third,  which  we  select  for 
description,  for  one  will  ser\e  perfectly  as  a  type  for  the  whole, 
seems  to  have  belonged  to  a  man  of  higher  class,  a  sort  of 
capitalist;  for,  instead  of  renting  a  mere  dependency  of  another 
man's  house,  he  li\ed  in  a  tolerably  good  house  of  his  own,  of 
which  the  bakery  forms  a  part.  It  stands  next, to  the  House  of 
Sallust,  on  the  south  side,  being  divided  from  it  only  b}'  a  narrow 
street.  Its  front  is  in  the  main  street  or  Via  Consularis,  leading 
from  the  gate  of  Ilerculaneum  to  the  Forum.  Entering  by  a 
small  vestibule,  the  \'isitor  finds  himself  in  a  tetrastyle  atrium  (a 
thing  not  common  at  Pompeii),  of  ample  dimensions,  considering 
the  character  of  the  house,  being  about  thirt3'-six  feet  by  thirty. 
The  pillars  which  supported  the  ceiling  are  square  and  solid,  and 
their  si/e,  combined  with  indications  observed  in  a  fragment  of 
the  entablature,  led  Mazois  to  suppose  that,  instead  of  a  roof, 
they  had  been  surmounted  by  a  terrace.  The  impluvium  is 
marble.  ;\t  ihe  end  ni  the  atrium  is  what  would  be  called  a 
tablinum  in  the  house  of  a  man  of  family,  through  which  we 
enter  the  bake-house,  whieh  is  at  the  back  of  the  house,  and  open? 
into  the  smaller  street,  whieh,  dixerging  Irom  the  main  street  at 
the  fountain  b\-  Pansa's  house,  runs   up  straight  to  the  city  walls. 


366 


EMPLOYMENT. 


The  atrium  is  surrounded  by  different  apartments,  offering  abund- 
ant accommodation,  but  such  as  we  need  not  stop  to  describe. 

The  work-room  is  about  thirty-three  feet  long  by  twenty-six. 
The  centre  is  occupied  by  four  stone  mills,  exactly  like  those 
found  in  the  other  two  stores,  for  all  the  bakers  ground  their  own 
Hour.  To  give  more  room  they  are  placed  diagonally,  so  as  to 
form,  not  a  square,  but  a  lozenge.  Mazois  was  present  at  the 
c.\ca\ation  of  this  house,  and  saw  the  mills  at  the  moment  of 
their  disco\ery,  when  the  iron-work,  though  entirely  rust-eaten, 
was  3'et  perfect  enough  to  explain  satisfactorily  the  method  of 
construction.  This  will  be  best  understood  from  the  following 
representation,  one  lialf  of  which  is  an  elevation,  the  other  half  a 
section.     The  cut  on  page  365  gives  some  idea  of  them. 

The  base  is  a  cvlindrical  stone,  about  five  feet  in  diameter 
and  two  feet  high.  Upon  this,  forming  part  of  the  same  block, 
or  else  firmly  fixed  into  it,  is  a  conical  projection  about  two  feet 
high,  the  sides  slightly  curving  inwards.  Upon  this  there  rests 
another  block,  externally  resembling  a  dice-box,  internally  an 
hour-glass,  being  shaped  into  two  hollow  cones  with  their  vertices 
towards  each  other,  the  lower  one  fitting  the  conical  surface  on 
which  it  rests,  though  not  with  any  degree  of  accuracy.  To 
diminish  friction,  however,  a  strong  iron  pivot  was  inserted  in  the 
top  of  the  solid  cone,  and  a  corresponding  socket  let  into  the 
narrow  part  of  the  hour-glass.  Four  holes  were  cut  through  the 
stone  parallel  to  tliis  pivot.  The  narrow  part  was  hooped  on  the 
outside  with  iron,  into  which  wooden  bars  were  inserted,  by 
means  ol"  whicii  the  upper  stone  was  turned  upon  its  pivot,  by  the 
labor  of  men  or  asses.  The  upper  hollow  cone  served  as  a 
hopper,  and  was  filled  with  corn,  which  fell  by  degrees  through 
the  four  holes  upon  the  solid  cone,  and  was  reduced  to  powder 
hy  Iriction  between  the  two  rough  surfaces.  Of  course  it  worked 
its  way  to  the  bottom  b\-  degrees,  and  fell  out  on  the  cylindrical 
base,  round  whicli  a  channel  was  cut  to  facilitate  the  collection. 


FLOUR    MILLS.  367 

These  machines  are  about  six  feet  high  in  the  whole,  made  of  a 
rough  gray  volcanic  stone,  full  of  large  crystals  of  leucite.  Thus 
rude,  in  a  period  of  high  refinement  and  luxury,  was  one  of  the 
commonest  and  most  necessary  machines — thus  careless  were  the 
Romans  of  the  amount  of  labor  wasted  in  preparing  an  article  of 
daily  and  universal  consumption.  This,  probabl}',  arose  in  chief 
from  the  employment  of  slaves,  the  hardness  of  whose  task  was 
little  cared  for;  while  the  profit  and  encouragement  to  enterprise 
on  the  part  of  the  professional  baker  was  proportionately  dimin- 
ished, since  every  family  of  wealth  probably  prepared  its  bread 
at  home.  But  the  same  inattention  to  the  useful  arts  runs 
through  everything  that  they  did.  Their  skill  in  working  metals 
was  equal  to  ours ;  nothing  can  be  more  beautiful  than  the  execu- 
tion of  tripods,  lamps,  and  vases,  nothing  coarser  than  their  locks; 
while  at  the  same  time  the  door-handles,  bolts,  etc.,  which  were 
seen,  are  often  exquisitely  wrought.  To  what  cause  can  this 
sluggishness  be  referred.^  At  present  we  see  that  a  material 
improvement  in  any  article,  though  so  trifling  as  a  corkscrew  or 
pencil-case,  is  pretty  sure  to  make  the  fortune  of  some  man, 
though  unfortunately  that  man  is  very  often  not  the  inventor. 
Had  the  encouragement  to  industr}^  been  the  same,  the  result 
would  have  been  the  same.  Articles  of  luxury  were  in  high 
request,  and  of  them  the  supply  was  first-rate.  But  the  demands 
of  a  luxurious  nobility  would  never  have  repaid  any  man  for 
devoting  his  attention  to  the  improvement  of  mills  or  perfecting 
smith's  work,  and  there  was  little  general  commerce  to  set  inge- 
nuity at  work.  Italy  imported  largely  both  agricultural  produce 
and  manufactures  in  the  shape  of  tribute  from  a  conquered 
world,  and  probably  exported  part  of  her  peculiar  productions; 
but  we  are  not  aware  that  there  is  any  ground  for  supposing  that 
she  manufactured  goods  for  exportation  to  any  extent. 

Originally  mills  were  turned  by  hand,  (man}^  establishments- 
may  still  be  seen  in  the  streets  of  Naples  for  grinding  corn  by 


368 


EMPLOYMENT.. 


means  of  a  hand-mill,  turned  by  a  man.  Such  flour-shops  have 
al\va\s  a  picture  of  the  Madonna  inside,)  and  this  severe  labor 
seems,  in  all  half-savage  times,  to  have  been  conducted  by  women, 
it  was  so  in  Egypt;  it  was  so  in  Greece  in  the  time  of  Homer, 
who  employs  fifty  females  in  the  house  of  Alcinous  upon  this 
service.  It  was  so  in  Palestine  in  the  time  of  the  Evangelists, 
and  in  England  in  the  fourteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries.  We 
find  a  passage  of  St.  Matthew  thus  rendered  by  Wiclifte:  "Two 
w\nimen  schulen  (shall)  be  grinding  in  one  querne,"  or  hand- 
mill;  and  Harrison  the  historian,  two  centuries  later,  says  that 
his  wife  ground  her  malt  at  home  upon  her  quern.  Among  the 
Romans  poor  freemen  used  sometimes  to  hire  themselves  out  to 
the  service  of  the  mill  when  all  other  resources  failed;  and 
Plautus  is  said  to  have  done  so,  being  reduced  to  the  extreme  of 
poverty,  and  to  have  composed  his  comedies  while  thus  employed. 
This  labor,  however,  fell  chiefly  upon  slaves,  and  is  represented 
as  being  the  severest  drudgery  which  they  had  to  undergo. 
Those  who  had  been  guilty  of  any  offense  were  sent  to  the  mill 
as  a  punishment,  and  sometimes  forced  to  work  in  chains. 
Asses,  however,  were  used  by  those  who  could  afford  it. 
That  useful  animal  seems  to  have  been  employed  in  the 
establishment  we  are  describing,  for  the  fragment  of  a  jaw-bone, 
with  several  teeth  in  it,  was  found  in  a  room  which  seems  to 
have  been  the  stable;  and  the  floor  about  the  mill  is  paved  with 
rough  pieces  of  stone,  while  in  the  rest  of  the  rooms  it  is  made 
of  stucco  or  compost.  The  use  of  water-mills,  however,  was  not 
unknown  to  the  Romans.  Vitruvius  describes  their  construction 
in  terms  not  inapplicable  to  the  mechanism  of  a  common  mill  of 
the  present  day,  and  other  ancient  authors  refer  to  them.  "  Set 
not  your  hands  to  the  mill,  O  women  that  turn  the  millstone! 
sleep  sound  though  the  cock's  crow  announce  the  dawn,  for 
Ceres  has  charged  the  nymphs  with  the  labors  which  employed 
your  arms.     These,  dashing  from  the  summit  of  a  wheel,  make 


BREAD-BAKING. 


369 


its  axle  revolve,  which,  by  the  help  of  moving  radii,  sets  in 
action  the  w^eight  of  four  hollow  mills.  We  taste  anew  the  life 
of  the  tirst  men,  since  we  have  learnt  to  enjoy,  without  fatigue, 
the  produce  of  Ceres." 

In  the  centre  of  the  pier,  at  the  back,  is  the  aperture  to  the 
cistern  by  which  the  water  used  in  making  bread  was  supplied. 
On  each  side  are  vessels  to  hold  the  water.  On  the  pier  above 
is  a  painting,  divided  horizontally  into  two  compartments.  The 
figures  in  the  upper  ones  are  said  to  represent  the  worship  of  the 
goddess  Fornax,  the  goddess  of  the  oven,  which  seems  to  have 
been  deified  solely  for  the  advantages  which  it  possessed  over  the 
old  method  of  baking  on  the  hearth.  Below,  two  guardian  ser- 
pents roll  towards  an  altar  crowned  with  a  fruit  very  much  like 
a  pine-apple;  while  above,  two  little  birds  are  in  chase  of  large 
flies.  These  birds,  thus  placed  in  a  symbolical  picture,  may  be 
considered,  in  perfect  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  ancient  mythol- 
ogy, as  emblems  of  the  genii  of  the  place,  employed  in  driving 
those  troublesome  insects  from  the  bread. 

The  oven  is  on  the  left.  It  is  made  with  considerable  atten- 
tion to  economy  of  heat.  The  real  oven  is  enclosed  in  a  sort  of 
ante-oven,  which  had  an  aperture  in  the  top  for  the  smoke  to 
escape.  The  hole  in  the  side  is  for  the  introduction  of  dough, 
which  was  prepared  in  the  adjoining  room,  and  deposited 
through  that  hole  upon  the  shovel  with  which  the  man  in  front 
placed  it  in  the  oven.  The  bread,  when  baked,  was  conveyed  to 
cool  in  a  room  the  other  side  of  the  oven,  by  a  similar  aperture. 
Beneath  the  oven  is  an  ash-pit.  To  the  right  is  a  large  room 
which  is  conjectured  to  have  been  a  stable.  The  jaw-bone  above 
mentioned  and  some  other  fragments  of  a  skeleton  were  found  in 
it.  There  is  a  reservoir  for  water  at  the  further  end,  which 
passes  through  the  wall,  and  is  common  both  to  this  room  and 
the  next,  so  that  it  could  be  filled  without  going  into  the  stable. 
The  further  room  is  fitted  up  with  stone  basins,  which  seem  to 
24 


^yo  EiVlPI-OYMENT. 

have  been  the  kneading-troughs.     It  contains  also  a  narrow  and 
inconvenient  staircase. 

Though  corn-bread  formed  the  principal  article  of  nourish- 
ment among  the  Italians,  the  use  of  bread  itself  was  not  of  early 
date.  For  a  lono-  time  the  Romans  used  their  corn  sodden  into 
pap,  and  there  were  no  bakers  in  Rome  antecedent  to  the  war 
against  Perseus,  king  of  Macedonia,  about  B.  C.  580.  Before 
this  every  house  made  its  own  bread,  and  this  was  the  task  of 
the  women,  except  in  great  houses,  where  there  were  men-cooks. 
And  even  after  the  invention  of  bread  it  was  long  before  the  use 
of  mills  was  known,  but  the  grain  was  bruised  in  mortars. 
Hence  the  names  pistor  and  fistriniim^  a  baker  and  baker's  shop, 
which  are  derived  from  pinsere^  to  pound.  The  oven  also  was 
of  late  introduction,  as  we  have  hinted  in  speaking  of  the  goddess 
Fornax,  nor  did  it  ever  come  into  exclusive  use.  We  hear  of 
bread  baked  under  the  ashes ;  baked  in  the  bread-pan,  which  was 
probably  of  the  n.nture  of  a  Dutch  oven;  and  other  sorts,  named 
either  from  the  nature  of  their  preparation  or  the  purpose  to 
which  they  were  to  be  applied.  The  finest  sort  was  called 
siligineus^  and  was  prepared  from  the  best  and  whitest  sort  of 
wheaten  flour.  A  bushel  of  the  best  wheat  of  Campania,  which 
was  of  the  first  quality,  containing  sixteen  sextarii,  ^Melded 
four  sextarii  of  siligo,  here  seemingly  used  for  the  finest  flour; 
half  a  bushel  of  /fo.?,  bolted  flour;  four  sextarii  of  cibarium^ 
seconds;  and  four  sextarii  of  bran;  thus  giving  an  excess  of  four 
sextarii.  Their  loaves  appear  to  have  been  very  often  baked  in 
moulds,  several  of  which  have  been  found;  these  may  possibly  be 
artoptai,  and  the  loaves  thus  baked,  artopticii.  Several  of  these 
loaves  have  been  found  entire.  They  are  flat,  and  about  eight 
inches  in  diameter.  One  in  the  Neapolitan  Museum  has  a  stamp 
o\\  the  top: — 

SILIGO  .  CRANII 
E       .      CICER 


DYEING. 


371 


BREAD   DISCOVERED   IN   POMPEII. 


This  has  been  interpreted  to  mean  that  cicer  (vetch)  was  mixed 
with  the  tiour.  We  know  from  Pliny  that  the  Romans  used 
several  sorts  of  grain.     The  cut  below  gives  an  idea  of  their  form. 

In  front  of  the  house,  one  on  each  side  the  doorway,  there 
are  two  shops.  Neither  of  these  has  any  communication  with 
the  house;  it  is 
inferred,  there- 
fore, that  they 
were  let  out  to 
others,  like  the 
shops  belonging 
to  more  distin- 
guished persons. 
This  supposition 
is  the  more  prob- 
able because  none 
of  the  bakeries  found  have  shops  attached  to  them,  and  there  is 
a  painting  in  the  grand  work  on  Ilerculaneum,  Le  Pitture  d'Er- 
colano,  which  represents  a  bread-seller  established  in  the  Forum, 
with  his  goods  on  a  little  table  in  the  open  air. 

There  is  only  one  trade,  so  far  as  we  are  aware,  with 
respect  to  the  practices  of  which  any  knowledge  has  been 
gained  from  the  excavations  at  Pompeii — that  of  fulling  and 
scouring  cloth.  This  art,  owing  to  the  difference  of  ancient  and 
modern  habits,  was  of  much  greater  importance  formerly  than 
it  now  is.  Wool  was  almost  the  only  material  used  for  dresses 
in  the  earlier  times  of  Rome,  silk  being  unknown  till  a  late 
period,  and  linen  garments  being  very  little  used.  Woolen 
dresses,  however,  especially  in  the  hot  climate  of  Italy,  must 
often  have  required  a  thorough  purification,  and  on  the  manner  in 
which  this  was  done  of  course  their  beauty  very  much  depended 
And  since  the  toga,  the  chief  article  of  Rom.an  costume,  was 
woven  in  one  piece,  and  was  of  course  expensive,  to  make  it  iook 


^^-2  EMPLOYMENT, 

and  wear  as  well  as  possible  was  very  necessary  to  persons  of 
small  Ibrtune.  The  method  pursued  has  been  described  by 
Pliny  and  others,  and  is  well  illustrated  in  some  paintings  found 
upon  the  wall  of  a  building,  which  evidently  was  a  fidlonica^  or 
scourini^-house.  The  building  in  question  is  entered  from  the 
Street  of  Mercury,  and  is  situated  in  the  same  island  as  the 
House  of  the  Tragic  Poet. 

The  first  operation  was  that  of  washing,  which  was  done 
with  water  mixed  with  some  detergent  clay,  or  fuller's  earth; 
soap  does  not  appear  to  have  been  used.  This  vsras  done  in  vats, 
where  the  clothes  were  trodden  and  well  worked  by  the  feet  of 
the  scourer.  The  painting  on  the  walls  of  the  FuUonica  repre- 
sents four  persons  thus  employed.  Their  dress  is  tucked  up, 
leaving  their  legs  bare;  it  consists  of  two  tunics,  the  under  one 
being  yellow  and  the  upper  green.  Three  of  them  seem  to  have 
done  their  work,  and  to  be  wringing  the  articles  on  which  they 
have  been  employed ;  the  other,  his  hands  resting  on  the  wall  on 
each  side,  is  jumping,  and  busily  working  about  the  contents 
of  his  vat.  When  dry,  the  cloth  was  brushed  and  carded,  to 
raise  the  nap — at  first  with  metal  cards,  afterwards  with  thistles. 
A  plant  called  teazle  is  now  largely  cultivated  in  England  for 
the  same  purpose.  The  cloth  was  then  fumigated  with  sulphur, 
and  bleached  in  the  sun  by  throwing  water  repeatedly  upon  it 
while  spread  out  on  gratings.  In  the  painting  the  workman  is 
represented  as  brushing  or  carding  a  tunic  suspended  over  a 
rope.  Another  man  carries  a  frame  and  pot,  meant  probably  for 
fumigation  and  bleaching;  the  pot  containing  live  coals  and  sul- 
phur, and  being  placed  under  the  frame,  so  that  the  cloths  spread 
upon  the  latter  would  be  fully  exposed  to  the  action  of  the  pent- 
up  \ajX)r.  The  person  who  carries  these  things  wears  something 
on  his  head,  wliich  is  said  to  be  an  olive  garland.  If  so,  that, 
and  tlic  owl  sitting  upon  the  frame,  probably  indicate  that  the 
establishment  was  under  the  patronage  of  Minerva,  the  tutelary 


SCOURING    AND    DYEING. 


373 


goddess  of  the  loom.  Another  is  a  female  examining  the  work 
which  a  young  girl  has  done  upon  a  piece  of  yellow  cloth.  A 
golden  net  upon  her  head,  and  a  necklace  and  bracelets,  denote 
a  person  of  higher  rank  than  one  of  the  mere  workpeople  of  the 
establishment;  it  probably  is  either  the  mistress  herself,  or  a 
customer  inquiring  into  the  quality  of  the  work  which  has  been 
done  for  her. 

These  pictures,  with  others  illustrative  of  the  various  pro- 
cesses of  the  art,  were  found  upon  a  pier  in  the  peristyle  of  the 
Fullonica.  Among  them  we  may  mention  one  that  represents  a 
press,  similar  in  construction  to  those  now  in  use,  except  that 
there  is  an  unusual  distance  between  the  threads  of  the  screw. 
The  ancients,  therefore,  were  acquainted  with  the  practical  ap- 
plication of  this  mechanical  power.  In  another  is  to  be  seen  a 
youth  delivering  some  pieces  of  cloth  to  a  female,  to  whom,  per- 
haps, the  task  of  ticketing,  and  preserving  distinct  the  different 
property  of  different  persons,  was  allotted.  It  is  rather  a  curi- 
ous proof  of  the  importance  attached  to  this  trade,  that  the  due 
regulation  of  it  was  a  subject  thought  not  unworthy  of  legisla- 
tive enactments.  B.  C.  354,  the  censors  laid  down  rules  for 
regulating  the  manner  of  washing  dresses,  and  we  learn  from  the 
digests  of  the  Roman  law  that  scourers  were  compelled  to  use 
the  greatest  care  not  to  lose  or  to  confound  property.  Another 
female,  seated  on  a  stool,  seems  occupied  in  cleaning  one  of  the 
cards.  Both  of  the  figures  last  described  wear  green  tunics;  the 
first  of  them  has  a  yellow  under-tunic,  the  latter  a  white  one. 
The  resemblance  in  colors  between  these  dresses  and  those  of 
the  male  fullers  above  described  may  perhaps  warrant  a  conject- 
ure that  there  was  some  kind  of  livery  or  described  dress  belong- 
ing to  the  establishment,  or  else  the  contents  of  the  painter's 
color-box  must  have  been  very  limited. 

The  whole  pier  on  which  these  paintings  were  found  has 
been  removed  to  the  museum  at  Naples.     In  the  peristyle  was  a 


oy.  EMPLOYMENT. 

laro-e  earthenware  jar,  which  had  been  broken  across  the  middle 
and  the  pieces  then  sewed  carelully  and  laboriously  together 
with  wire.  The  value  of  these  vessels,  therefore,  can  not  have 
been  verv  small,  though  they  were  made  of  the  most  common 
clay.  At  the  eastern  end  of  the  peristyle  there  was  a  pretty 
fountain,  with  a  jet  d'eau.  The  western  end  is  occupied  by  tour 
large  vats  in  masonr}-,  lined  with  stucco,  about  seven  feet  deep, 
which  seem  to  have  received  the  water  in  succession,  one  from 
another. 

Dveing  and  painting  in  ancient  times  was  rather  more  perfect 
than  at  present,  at  least  the  colors  were  stronger  and  more  dur- 
able. The  Egyptians  had  the  most  durable  colors.  The  Henna 
is  a  plant  which  is  abundant  in.  Egypt,  Arabia,  and  Palestine, 
and  was  used  by  the  ancients,  as  it  is  by  the  moderns,  for  dyeing. 
The  leaves  were  dried  and  pulverized,  and  then  made  into  a 
paste.  It  is  a  powerful  astringent  dye,  and  is  applied  to  desiccate 
and  dye  the  palms  of  the  hands  and  soles  of  the  feet  and  nails  of 
both,  and  gives  a  sort  of  dun  or  rust  color  to  animal  tissues,  which 
is  very  permanent. 

It  is  stated  that  when  sal-ammoniac  and  lime  were  put  upon 
the  colored  parts  they  changed  to  a  dark  greenish-blue  color,  and 
passed  on  to  black,  probably  from  the  sal-ammoniac  containing 
iron  which  would  give  this  result. 

The  Tyrian  ladies  dyed  rings  and  stars  upon  their  persons. 
Men  gave  a  black  dye  to  the  hair  of  their  heads  and  beards.  The 
dyeing  of  the  nails  with  henna  is  a  very  ancient  custom.  Some 
of  the  old  Egyptian  mummies  are  so  dyed.  It  is  supposed  that 
the  Jewish  women  also  followed  this  custom.  Reference  is  made 
to  it  in  Deuteronomy,  where  the  newly-married  wife  is  desired  to 
stain  her  nails.  Also,  in  the  Song  of  Solomon.  Cawphire,  in  the 
authorized  \crsion,  is  said  to  mean  henna,  which  has  finely-scented 
flowers  growing  in  bunches,  and  the  leaves  of  the  plant  are  used 
by  women  to  impart  a  reddish  stain  to  their  nails. 


COLORING    SUBSTANCES. 


375 


Speaking  of  the  Arabian  women  at  the  present  da}",  Dr. 
Thomson,  in  ''  The  Land  and  the  Book,''  says:  "  They  paint  their 
cheeks,  putting  tahl  around  their  eyes,  arching  their  eyebrows 
with  the  same,  and  stain  their  hands  and  feet  with  henna  thus  to 
deck  themselves,  and  should  an  unmarried  woman  do  so,  an  im- 
pression is  conveyed  highly  injurious  to  the  girl's  character." 

Galls  are  named  among  the  substances  known  to  the 
ancients,  but  we  can  not  find  whether  they  were  used  as  a  dyeing 
agent.  Wilkinson  says  that  tanning  was  in  Egypt  a  subdivision 
of  dyeing,  and  it  is  mentioned  that  copperas  with  galls  dyed 
leather  black;  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  galls  were  used 
for  a  similar  purpose  in  ordinary  dyeing.  The  AlyroboUaus  and 
several  sorts  of  barks  and  pods  of  the  Acacia  nilotica  were  also 
used  for  tanning,  from  their  astringent  properties,  and  may  have 
been  similarly  used  for  dyeing. 

These  are  a  few  of  the  principal  coloring  matters  used  by 
dyers  in  ancient  times.  There  is  a  little  confusion  with  respect 
to  some  of  the  salts  mentioned  as  having  been  used  by  them,  es- 
pecially the  alkaline  salts — a  circumstance,  however,  not  to  be 
wondered  at.  In  more  modern  times  there  is  a  similar  confusion 
on  this  same  head. 

When  nitre,  for  instance,  is  burned  with  carbonaceous  mat- 
ter, the  product  is  carbonate  of  potash.  The  ashes  left  by  burn- 
ing wood  contain  the  same  salt.  The  ashes  left  by  burning 
sea-weed  produce  carbonate  of  soda.  When  nitre  is  burned  with 
sulphur,  the  product  is  sulphate  of  potash,  etc.  These  have  all 
been  called  generically,  even  in  modern  times,  nitre,  having  each 
a  certain  prefix  well  understood  by  the  adept,  or  chemist,  of  the 
day. 

We  think  it  probable  that  all  these  processes  for  making  the 
different  salts  were  practiced  in  ancient  times,  but  now  having 
only  the  generic  name  vitre  given  us  by  historians,  we  can  not 
understand  exactly  when  nitre  is  mentioned  which  of  the  nitres  is 
meant. 


376 


EMPLOYMENT. 


When  Solomon  speaks  of  the  action  of  vinegar  upon  nitre, 
the  clicmist  understands  that  the  salt  referred  to  is  a  carbonate, 
but  when  the  nature  of  the  action  or  application  is  not  given,  we 
have  no  idea  what  particular  salt  is  meant.  There  is  no  doubt, 
however,  that  the  ancients  were  well  acquainted  with  the  alkaline 
salts  of  potash  and  soda,  and  applied  them  in  the  arts.  The 
metallic  salts  of  iron,  copper,  and  alumina  were  well  known,  and 
their  application  to  dyeing  was  generally  the  same  as  at  the  pres- 
ent day.  That  they  were  used  both  as  mordants  and  alterants 
is  evident  from  several  references. 

A  very  suggestive  statement  is  made  by  Pliny  about  the 
ancient  Egyptians.  "They  began,'  says  he,  "by  painting  or 
drawino"  on  white  cloths  with  certain  druses,  which  in  themselves 
possessed  no  color,  but  had  the  property  of  attracting  or  absorb- 
ing coloring  matter,  after  which  these  cloths  were  immersed  in  a 
heated  dyeing  liquor;  and  although  they  were  colorless  before, 
and  although  this  dyeing  liquor  was  of  one  equable  and  uniform 
color,  yet  when  taken  out  of  it  soon  afterwards,  the  cloth  was 
found  to  be  wonderfully  tinged  of  different  colors,  according  to 
the  peculiar  nature  of  the  several  drugs  which  had  been  applied 
to  their  respective  parts,  and  these  colors  could  not  be  afterwards 
discharged  by  washing." 

Herodotus  states  that  certain  people  who  lived  near  the  Cas- 
pian Sea  could,  b}'  means  of  leaves  of  trees  which   they  bruised' 
and  steeped  in  water,  form  on  cloth  the  figures  of  animals,  flow- 
ers, etc.,  which  were  as  lasting  as  the  cloth  itself.     This  state- 
»^ent  is  more  suggestive  than  instructive. 

Persia  was  much  famed  for  dyeing  at  a  very  early  period, 
and  dyeing  is  still  held  in  great  esteem  in  that  country.  Persian 
dyers  have  chosen  Christ  as  their  patron;  and  Bischoff  says  that 
they  at  present  call  a  dye-house  Christ's  workshop,  from  a  tradi- 
tion they  have  that  He  was  of  that  profession.  They  have  a 
legend,  probabl}'  founded  upon  what  Pliny  tells  of  the  Egyptian 


MINERAL    USED    FOR    DYEING. 


377 


dyers,  "  that  Christ  being  put  apprentice  to  a  dyer,  His  master 
desired  Him  to  dye  some  pieces  of  cloth  of  different  colors;  He 
put  them  all  into  a  boiler,  and  when  the  dyer  took  them  out  he 
was  terribly  frightened  on  finding  that  each  had  its  proper  color.'' 
This  or  a  similar  legend  occurs  in  the  apocryphal  book  en- 
titled "  The  First  Gospel  of  the  Infancy  of  Jesus  Christ."  The 
following  is  the  passage  : 

"  On  a  certain  day  also,  when  the  Lord  Jesus  was  playing  with  the  boys,  and  run- 
ning about,  He  passed  by  a  dyer's  shop  whose  name  was  Salem,  and  there  were  in  his 
shop  many  pieces  of  cloth  belongmg  to  the  people  of  that  city,  which  they  designed  to 
dye  of  several  colors.  Then  the  Lord  Jesus,  going  into  the  dyer's  shop,  took  all  the 
cloths  and  threw  them  into  the  furnace.  When  Salem  came  home  and  saw  the  cloth 
spoiled,  he  began  to  make  a  great  noise  and  to  chide  the  Lord  Jesus,  staying:  '"What 
hast  Thou  done  unto  me,  O  thou  son  of  Mary?  Thou  hast  injured  both  me  and  my 
neighbors;  they  all  desired  their  cloths  of  a  proper  color,  but  Tliou  hast  come  and 
spoiled  them  all."  The  Lord  Jesus  replied :  "  I  will  change  the  color  of  every  cloth 
to  what  color  thou  desirest,"aud  then  He  presently  began  to  take  the  cloths  out  of  the  fur- 
nace; and  they  were  all  dyed  of  those  same  colors  which  the  dyer  desired.  And  when 
the  Jews  saw  this  surprising  miracle  they  praised  God." 

Tin. — We  have  no  positive  evidence  as  to  whether  the 
ancients  used  oxide,  or  the  salts  of  tin,  in  their  dyeing  operations. 
A  modern  dyer  could  hardly  produce  permanent  tints  with 
some  of  the  dye  drugs  named  without  tin  salts.  We  know  that 
the  ancients  used  the  oxides  of  tin  for  glazing  pottery  and  paint- 
ing; they  may  therefore  have  used  salts  of  tin  in  their  dyeing 
operations.  However,  they  had  another  salt — sulphate  of  alum- 
ina— which  produces  similar  results,  although  the  moderns  in 
most  cases  prefer  tin,  as  it  makes  a  more  brilliant  and  permanent 
tint. 

Alum. — This  is  what  is  termed  a  double  salt,  and  is  com- 
posed of  sulphate  of  alumina  and  sulphate  of  potash.  The 
process  of  manufacturing  it  in  this  country  is  by  subjecting  clay 
slate  containing  iron  pyrites  to  a  calcination,  when  the  sulphur 
with  the  iron  is  oxidized,  becoming  sulphuric  acid,  which,  com- 
bining with  the  alumina  of  the  clay,  and  also  with  the  iron, 
becomes  sulphate  of  alumina  and  iron;  to  this  is  added  a  salt  of 


378 


EMl'LOV.MKN'J' 


potash,  which,  combining  with  the  sulphate  of  alumina,  forms  the 
double  salt  alum.  Soda  or  ammonia  may  be  substituted  for 
potash  with  similar  results;  the  alum  is  crystallized  from  the 
^solution.  That  the  ancients  were  acquainted  with  this  double 
salt  has  been  disputed,  but  we  think  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  its 
existence  and  use  at  a  \ery  early  period.  A  very  pure  alum  is 
produced  in  \()lcani(.'  districts  by  the  action  of  sulphurous  acid 
and  oxygen  on  felspathic  rocks,  and  used  b}'  the  ancients  for 
different  purposes.  Plin}'  mentions  Alumine^  which  he  describes 
as  white,  and  used  for  whitening  wool,  also  for  dyeing  wool  of 
bright  colors.  Occasionally  he  confounds  this  salt  with  a  mixture 
of  sulphate  of  alumina  and  iron,  which,  in  all  probability,  was 
alum  containing  iron,  the  process  of  separation  not  being  perl'ect ; 
and  he  mentions  that  this  kind  of  alumen  blackens  on  the  appli- 
cation of  nut-galls,  showing  that  iron  was  in  it.  Pliny  says  of 
alumen,  that  it  is  "understood  to  be  a  sort  of  brine  which  exudes 
from  the  earth;  of  this,  too,  there  are  several  kinds.  In  C\prus 
there  is  a  white  alumen,  and  another  kind  of  a  darker  color;  the 
uses  of  these  are  very  dissimilar,  the  white  liquid  alumen  being 
employed  for  dyeing  a  whole  bright  color,  and  the  darker,  on  the 
other  hand,  for  giving  wool  a  tawny  or  sombre  tint."  This  is 
very  characteristic  of  a  pure  aluminous  mordant,  and  oi  one 
containing  iron.  He  also  mentions  that  this  dark  alumen  was 
used  for  puritying  gold.  He  must  be  referring  here  to  its 
quality  of  giving  gold  a  rich  color.  The  liquid  of  this  iron 
alumen,  if  put  upon  light-colored  gold,  and  heated  over  ;i  lire, 
gives  it  a  ver}'  rich  tint;  a  process  practiced  still  for  the  same 
purpose.  So  far,  however,  as  the  application  to  dyeing  is  con- 
cerned, it  is  unnecessary  to  prove  that  the  ancients  used  our 
double  salt  aluiu.  Probably  the  alumen  referred  to  by  Plin}-,  as 
exuding  from  the  earth,  was  sulphate  of  alumina,  without  potash 
or  soda,  a  salt  not  easily  crystallized,  but  as  effective,  in  many 
cases  more  effective,  in  the  operations  of  d3'eing,  as  alum,  which 


COST    OF    DYEING. 


379 


is  attested  by  the  preference  given  to  this  salt  over  alum  for 
many  purposes  at  the  present  day.  Pliny  says  that  alumen  was 
a  product  of  Spain,  Egypt,  Armenia,  Macedonia,  Pontus,  Airica, 
and  the  Islands  of  Sardinia,  Melos,  Lipara,  and  Strangyle,  and 
that  the  most  esteemed  is  that  of  Egypt.  And  Herodotus  men- 
tions that  King  Amasis  of  Egypt  sent  the  people  of  Delphi  a 
thousand  talents  of  this  substance,  as  his  contribution  toward  the 
rebuilding  of  their  temple.  Notwithstanding  considerable  con- 
fusion in  Pliny's  account  of  this  substance,  our  belief  is,  that  it 
refers  to  different  salts  of  alumina,  and  whether  or  not  they  were 
all  used  in  the  processes  of  d3^eing,  they  were  used  for  manufac- 
turing purposes,  and  thus  gives  us  some  insight  to  the  advanced 
state  of  the  arts  in  those  times. 

Respecting  the  cost  and  durabilit}^  ot  the  Tyrian  purple,  it 
is  related  that  Alexander  the  Great  found  in  the  treasury  of  the 
Persian  monarch  5,000  quintals  of  Hermione  purple  of  great 
beauty,  and  180  years  old,  and  that  it  was  worth  $125  of  our 
money  per  pound  weight.  The  price  of  dyeing  a  pound  of  wool 
in  the  time  of  Augustus  is  given  by  Pliny,  and  this  price  is  equal 
to  about  $160  of  our  money.  It  is  probable  that  his  remarks 
refer  to  some  particular  tint  or  quality  of  color  easil}'  distin- 
guished, although  not  at  all  clearly  defined  by  Pliny.  He  men- 
tions a  sort  of  purple,  or  hyacinth,  which  was  worth,  in  the  time 
of  Julius  Caesar,  100  denarii  (about  $15  of  our  money)  per 
pound. 

Since,  according  to  our  modern  researches  into  this  dye,  one 
fish,  the  common  Purpura  lapillas^  produces  only  about  one 
drop  of  the  liquor,  then  it  would  take  about  10,000  fish  to  dye  i 
lb.  of  wool,  so  that  $160  is  not  extravagant. 

Spinning  and  weaving  in  ancient  times  were  principally  per- 
formed by  women;  indeed,  the  words  woof^  vjeaving^  and  iveb 
are  allied  to  the  word  ivife.  However,  in  ancient  Egypt  and  in 
India   men  also  wrought   at  the   loom.     Probably  nothing   could 


3So 


EMPLOYMENT. 


be  simpler  or  ruder  than  the  looms  used  by  ancient  weavers. 
Were  we  to  compare  these  with  tlie  looms  and  other  weaving 
apparatus  of  the  present  day,  and  reason  therefrom  that  as  the 
loom  so  must  have  been  the  cloth  produced  thereon,  we  would 
make  a  very  i2:reat  mistake.  There  are  few  arts  which  illus- 
trate with  equal  force  our  argument  in  favor  of  the  perfection 
of  ancient  art  so  well  as  this  of  weaving.  It  would  appear  that 
our  ad\ancement  is  not  so  much  in  the  direction  of  quality  as 
in  that  of  quantity.  There  are  few  things  we  can  do  which 
were  not  done  by  the  ancients  equally  perfect.  Rude  as  were 
their  looms  in  ancient  Egypt,  they  produced  the  far-famed  linen 
so  often  mentioned  in  Scripture  and  the  writings  of  other  nations. 
In  order  to  show  that  this  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  a  merely 
comparative  term  applicable  to  a  former  age,  we  will  here  quote 
from  G.  Wilkinson  respecting  some  mummy-cloths  examined  by 
the  late  Mr.  Thomson,  of  Clithero: — ''My  first  impression  on 
seeing  these  cloths  was,  that  the  first  kinds  were  muslins,  and  of 
Indian  manufacture;  but  this  suspicion  of  their  being  cotton  was 
soon  remo\'ed  by  the  microscope.  Some  were  thin  and  trans- 
parent, and  of  delicate  texture,  and  the  finest  had  140  threads 
to  the  inch  in  the  warp."  Some  cloth  Mr.  Wilkinson  found  in 
Thebes  had  152  threads  to  the  inch  in  the  warp,  but  this  is 
coarse  when  compared  with  a  piece  of  linen  cloth  found  in  Mem- 
phis, which  had  540  threads  to  the  inch  of  the  warp.  How  fine 
must  these  threads  ha\e  been!  In  quoting  this  extract  from 
Wilkinson  to  an  old  weaver,  he  flatly  said  it  was  impossible,  as 
no  reed  could  be  made  so  fine.  However,  there  would  be  more 
threads  than  one  in  the  split,  and  by  adopting  this  we  can  make 
cloth  in  our  day  having  between  400  and  500  in  the  inch.  How- 
ever, the  ancient  cloths  are  much  finer  in  the  warp  than  woof, 
probabl}'  from  want  of  appliance  for  driving  the  threads  of  the 
weft  close  enough,  as  they  do  not  appear  to  have  Jays  as  we 
have  for  this  purpose.      Pliny  refers  to  the  remains  of  a   linen 


CLOTH    MANUFACTURE.  381 

corselet,  presented  by  Amasis,  king  of  Eg3'pt,  to  the  Rhodians, 
each  thread  of  which  was  composed  of  365  fibres:  "Herodotus 
mentions  this  corselet,  and  another  presented  by  Amasis  to  the 
Lacedaemonians,  which  had  been  carried  off  by  the  Samians. 
It  was  of  linen,  ornamented  with  numerous  figures  of  animals 
worked  in  gold  and  cotton.  Each  thread  of  the  corselet  was 
worthy  of  admiration,  for  though  very  tine,  every  one  was  com- 
posed of  360  other  threads  all  distinct."  No  doubt  this  kind  of 
thread  was  symbolical.  It  was  probably  something  of  this  sort 
that  Moses  refers  to  when  he  mentions  the  material  of  which  the 
corselet  or  girdle  of  the  high  priest  was  made — the  fine  twined 
linen.  Jewish  women  are  represented  in  the  Old  Testament  as 
being  expert  in  the  art  of  spinning. 

Ancient  Babylon  was  also  celebrated  for  her  cloth  manufac- 
ture and  embroidery  work,  and  to  be  the  possessor  of  one  of 
these  costly  garments  was  no  ordinary  ambition.  It  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that  when  Achan  saw  amongst  the  spoils  of  Jericho 
a  goodly  Babylonish  garment  he  "  coveted  it  and  took  it."  The 
figure  represented  on  the  ancient  seal  of  Urukh  has,  says  Raw- 
linson,  fringed  garments  delicately  striped,  indicating  an  ad- 
vanced condition  of  this  kind  of  manufacture  five  or  six  centuries 
before  Joshua.  It  may  be  mentioned,  however,  that  such  manu- 
factures were  in  ancient  times,  especially  in  Egypt,  national. 
Time  was  of  little  importance,  labor  was  plentiful,  and  no  crafts- 
man was  allowed  to  scheme,  or  plan,  or  introduce  any  change, 
but  was  expected  to  aim  at  the  perfection  of  the  operation  he 
was  engaged  in,  and  this  led  to  perfection  every  branch.  Every 
trade  had  its  own  quarters  in  the  city  or  nation,  and  the  locality 
was  named  after  the  trade,  such  as  goldsmiths'  quarters,  weavers' 
quarters,  etc.  This  same  rule  seems  to  have  been  practised  by 
the  Hebrews  after  their  settlement  in  Palestine,  for  we  find  such 
names  in  Scripture  as  the  Valley  of  Craftsmen,  We  also  find 
that   certain  trades  continued  in  lamilies;  passages  such  as   the 


3S- 


EMPLOYMENT. 


followint^  are  tVcquent — ''  The  lather  of  those  who  were  crafts- 
men," and  "  The  father  of  Mereshah,  a  city,  and  of  the  house  of 
those  who  wrought  fine  Hnen;"  and  again,  "  The  men  of  Cho- 
zeba,  and  Joash,  and  Saraph,  who  had  the  dominion  of  Moab 
and  fashubalahem,  these  were  potters,  and  those  that  dwelt 
amoni:  plants  and  hedges,  and  did  the  king's  work.''  In  ancient 
Ei^vpt  ever\-  son  was  obliged  to  follow  the  same  trade  as  his 
father.  Thus  caste  was  formed.  Whether  this  same  was 
carried  out  in  Babylon,  Persia,  and  Greece,  we  do  not  know; 
but  certainly,  in  these  nations  there  were  in  all  cases  officers 
directing  the  operations,  and  overseers,  to  whom  these  again 
were  responsible,  so  that  every  manufacturing  art  was  carried 
on  under  strict  surveillance,  and  to  the  highest  state  of  perfec- 
tion. As  the  possession  of  artistic  work  was  an  object  of  ambi- 
tion amongst  the  wealthy  or  favored  portion  of  the  community, 
it  led  to  emulation  among  the  workers  Professor  Rawlinson,  in 
his  '*■  Five  Ancient  Monarchies,"  speaks  of  the  Persians  emulat- 
ing with  eacn  other  in  the  show  they  could  make  of  their  riches 
and  varietv  of  artistic  products.  This  emulation  led  both  to 
private  and  public  exhibitions.  One  of  those  exhibitions,  which 
lasted  over  a  period  of  six  months,  is  referred  to  in  the  Old 
Testament:  so  when  we  opened  our  Great  Exhibition  in  1876 
we  were  onl\-  resuscitating  a  system  common  in  ancient  times, 
the  event  recorded  in  the  Book  of  Esther  having  happened  at 
least  2,200  years  before: 

"  In  those  daj's,  when  the  King  Ahasuerus  sat  on  the  throne  of  his  kingdom, 
which  was  in  Sliushan  the  palace,  in  the  third  year  of  his  reign,  he  made  a  feast  unto 
all  his  princes  and  his  servants;  the  power  of  Persia  and  Media,  the  nobles  and  princes 
of  the  provinces,  bein^  before  him:  when  he  showed  the  riches  of  his  glorious  kingdom, 
imd  the  honor  of  his  excellent  majesty,  many  days.even  an  hundred  and  fourscore  days, 
And  when  these  days  were  expired,  the  king  made  a  feast  unto  all  the  people  that  were 
present  in  Shushan  the  palace,  both  unto  great  and  unto  small,  seven  days,  in  the  court 
of  the  garden  of  the  king's  palace;  where  were  while  green  and  blue  hangings,  fastened 
with  cords  of  fine  linrn  and  purple  to  silver  rings  and  pillars  of  marble;  the  beds  were 
of  gold  and  silver,  ujjon  a  pavement  of  red,  and  blue,  and  white,  and  black  marble. 
And  they  gave  them  drink  in  vessels  of  gold  (the  vessels  being  diverse  one  from 
anothr-r),  and  royal  wine  in  abundance,  according  to  the  state  of  the  king." 


*  PERSIAN    COSTUMES.  383 

I'his  must  have  been  a  magnificent  exhibition.  The  number 
attending  this  feast  is  not  ascertainable;  but,  if  the  princes  and 
nobles  of  the  provinces  (the  provinces  were  127  in  number),  and 
P.11  the  officers  and  great  men  of  Persia  and  Media,  and  the 
servants  of  the  palace,  great  and  small,  were  there,  it  must  have 
formed  an  immense  company.  Now,  as  every  one  drank  out  of 
a  golden  cup  of  a  different  pattern,  we  obtain  an  idea  of  profusion 
in  art  of  which  we  can  form  but  a  very  limited  conception.  This 
fact  indicates  that  variety  of  pattern  was  an  object  sought  after 
— a  fashion  fostering  and  favoring  the  development  of  art  and 
design,  and  worthy  of  being  emulated  in  the  present  day. 

Speaking  of  the  Persians,  Professor  Rawlinson  says  that  the 
richer  classes  seem  to  have  followed  the  court  in  their  practices. 
In  their  costume  they  wore  long  purple  or  flowered  robes,  with 
loose-hanging  sleeves,  flowered  tunics  reaching  to  the  knee,  also 
sleeved,  embroidered  trowsers,  tiaras,  and  shoes  of  a  more  elegant 
shape  than  the  ordinary  Persian.  Under  their  trowsers  they 
wore  drawers,  and  under  their  tunics  shirts,  and  under  their  shoes 
stockings  or  socks.  In  their  houses  their  couches  were  spread 
with  gorgeous  coverlets,  and  their  floors  with  rich  carpets — 
habits  that  must  have  necessitated  an  immense  labor  and  skill, 
and  indicate  great  knowledge  in  the  manufacture  of  textile 
fabrics. 

Among  the  great  historic  nations  of  antiquity,  the  chief 
consumption  of  copper  and  tin  was  in  the  manufacture  of  bronze; 
and  the  quantities  of  these  metals  necessary  for  the  purpose  must 
have  been  very  great,  for  bronze  seems  to  have  been  the  principal 
metallic  substance  of  which  articles  both  of  utility  and  art  were 
formed.  Wilkinson,  Layard,  and  others,  found  bronze  articles 
m  abundance  amongst  the  debris  of  all  the  ancient  civilizations  to 
which  their  researches  extend,  proving  that  the  manufacture  of 
this  alloy  was  widely  known  at  a  very  early  period;  and  strange 
to  say,  when  we  consider  the  applications  of  some  of  the  tools 


3^4 


EMPLOYMENT. 


found,  we  are  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  the  bronze  of  which 
thc\-  were  made  must  originally  have  been  in  certain  important 
particulars  superior  to  any  which  we  can  produce  at  the  present 
dav.  In  these  researcnes  were  found  carpenters'  and  masons' 
tools,  such  as  saws,  chisels,  hammers,  etc.,  and  also  knives,  dag- 
gers, swords,  and  other  instruments  which  require  both  a  line 
hard  edi,'-e  a-nd  elasticity.  Were  we  to  make  such  tools  now,  they 
would  be  useless  for  the  purpose  to  which  the  ancients  applied 
them.  Wilkinson  says:  '' No  one  who  has  tried  to  perforate  or 
cut  a  block  of  Egvptian  granite  will  scruple  to  acknowledge  that 
our  best  steel  tools  are  turned  in  a  very  short  time,  and  require 
to  be  re-tempered;  and  the  labor  experienced  by  the  French 
engineers  who  removed  the  obelisk  of  Luxor  from  Thebes,  in 
cutting  a  space  less  than  two  feet  deep  along  the  face  of  its  par- 
tially decomposed  pedestal,  suffices  to  show  that,  even  with  our 
excellent  modern  implements,  we  find  considerable  difficulty  in 
doing  what  to  the  Egyptians  would  have  been  one  of  the  least 
arduous  tasks." 

But  Wilkinson  believes  that  bronze  chisels  were  used  for 
cutting  granite,  as  he  found  one  at  Thebes,  of  which  he  says,  "  Its 
point  is  instantly  turned  b}'  striking  it  against  the  very  stone  it 
was  used  to  cut;  and  yet,  when  found,  the  summit  was  turned 
over  by  blows  it  had  received  from  the  mallet,  while  the  point 
was  intact,  as  if  it  had  recently  left  the  hands  of  the  smith  who 
made  it." 

"Another  remarkable  feature  in  their  bronze,"  says  the  same 
author,  "  is  the  resistance  it  offers  to  the  effects  of  the  atmos- 
phere— some  continuing  smooth  and  bright  though  buried  for 
ages,  and  since  exposed  to  the  damp  European  climate.  They 
had  also  the  secret  of  covering  the  surface  with  a  rich  patina  of 
dark  or  light  green,  or  other  color,  by  applying  acids  to  it." 


'L" 


n  ^ 


.\^.A  A 


T^^py- 


As  Excavated  by  Dr.  Schliemann. 


No  words  can  describe  the  interest  which  belongs  to  such  a 
contribution  to  the  history  of  the  world  as  the  discovery  of  Troy 
by  Dr.  Schliemann.  The  belief  of  a  large  part  of  the  classic 
world  for  centuries  has  been  embodied  in  a  saying  quite  common 
among  the  Greeks:  "  I  know  of  but  one  Ilion,  and  that  is  the 
Ilion  as  sung  by  Homer,  which  is  not  to  be  found  except  among 
the  muses  who  dwell  on  Olympus."  To-day  is  given  to  the 
world  a  description  of  the  fire-scathed  ruins  of  that  city  whose 
fate  inspired  the  immortal  first-fruits  of  Greek  poetry,  and  from 
these  remains  are  brought  to  light  thousands  of  facts  bearing 
upon  the  origin  and  history  of  the  inhabitants,  and  illustrating 
their  religion  and  language,  their  wealth  and  civilization.  He 
has  supplied  the  missing  link,  long  testified  by  tradition  as  well 
as  poetry,  between  the  famous  Greeks  and  their  kindred  in  the 
East 

The  satisfaction  which  the  discovery  of  Troy  gives  to  the 
Greeks  especially  is,  perhaps,  nearly  commensurate  with  the  joy 
chat  a  discovery  would  bring  to  the  Christian  which  would  so 
confirm  the  truth  of  the  Bible  as  to  forever  silence  its  critics  and 
the  skepticism  of  the  day.  The  Iliad  was  the  Greek  Bible,  and 
every  page  of  it  was  full  of  accounts  of  Troy,  its  people  and  its 

25  385 


386 


TROY, 


heroes.  It  was  the  ultimate  standard  of  appeal  on  all  matters 
of  religious  doctrine  and  early  history.  It  was  learned  by  the 
bovs  at  school.  It  was  the  study  of  men  in  their  riper  years, 
and  even  in  the  time  of  Socrates  there  were  Athenian  gentle- 
men wlio  could  repeat  both  the  Iliad  and  Od}'ssey  by  heart.  In 
whatever  part  of  the  ancient  world  a  Greek  settled  he  carried 
with  him  a  love  for  the  great  poet,  just  as  much  as  the  Christian 
family  takes  the  Bible  to  its  new  frontier  home.  No  work  of 
profane  literature  has  exercised  so  wide  and  long-continued  an 
influence. 

The  site  of  Troy  is  upon  a  plateau  on  the  eastern  shore  of 
the  ^gean  Sea,  about  4  miles  from  the  coast  and  4^^  miles 
southeast  from  the  port  of  Sigeum.  The  plateau  lies  on  an 
average  about  80  feet  above  the  plain,  and  descending  very  ab- 
ruptly on  the  north  side.  Its  northwestern  corner  is  formed 
by  a  hill  about  26  feet  higher  still,  wliich  is  about  705  feet  in 
breadth  and  984  in  length,  and  from  its  imposing  situation  and 
natural  fortifications  this  hill  of  Hissarlik  seems  specially  suited 
to  be  the  Acropolis  of  the  town. 

Like  the  other  great  Oriental  capitals  of  the  Old  World,  the 
present  condition  of  Troy  is  that  of  a  mound,  such  as  those  in 
the  plain  of  the  Tigris  and  Euphrates,  offering  for  ages  the  invi- 
tation to  research,  which  has  only  been  accepted  and  rewarded 
in  our  own  day.  The  resemblance  is  so  striking  as  to  raise  a 
strong  presumption  that,  as  the  mounds  of  Nimrud  and  Hillah 
have  been  found  to  contain  the  palaces  of  the  Assyrian  and  Bab\- 
lonian  kings,  so  we  may  accept  the  ruins  found  in  the  mound  of 
Hissarlik  as  those  of  the  capital  of  that  primeval  empire  in  Asia 
Minor. 

As  the  mounds  opened  by  Layard  and  his  fellow  laborers 
contained  only  the  "  royal  quarters,^'  which  towered  above  the 
rude  buildings  of  cities,  the  magnitude  of  which  is  attested  by 
abundant  proofs,  so  it  is   reasonable  to  believe  that  the   ruins  at 


RUINS    AT    HISSARLIK. 


387 


Hissarlik  are  those  of  the  royal  quarter,  the  only  really  perma- 
nent part  of  the  city  built  on  the  hill  capping  the  lower  plateau 
which  lifted  the  huts  of  the  common  people  above  the  marshes 
and  inundations  of  the  Scamander  and  the  Simois.  In  both 
cases  the  fragile  dwellings  of  the  multitude  have  perished,  and 
the  pottery  and  other  remains,  which  were  left  in  the  surface  of 
the  plateau  of  Ilium,  would  naturally  be  cleared  away  by  the 
succeeding  settlers.  Homer's  poetical  exaggeration  exalted  the 
mean  dwellings  that  clustered  about  the  acropolis  into  the  "  well- 
built  city  "  with  her  "  wide  streets.'' 

The  erroneous  theory  which  assigns  Troy  to  the  heights  of 
Bunarbashi  could,  in  fact,  never  have  gained  ground,  had  its 
advocates  employed  the  few  hours  which  they  spent  on  the 
heights,  and  in  Bunarbashi  itself,  in  making  small  holes,  with  the 
aid  of  even  a  single  workman.  No  one  can  conceive  how  it  is 
possible  that  the  solution  of  the  great  problem,  "  ubi  Troja  fait " 
— which  is  surely  one  of  the  greatest  interest  to  the  whole  civil- 
ized world — should  have  been  treated  so  superficially  that,  after 
a  few  hours'  visit  to  the  Plain  of  Troy,  men  have  sat  down  at 
home  and  written  voluminous  works  to  defend  a  theory,  the 
worthlessness  of  which  they  would  have  perceived  had  they  but 
made  excavations  for  a  singj-le  hour. 

The  view  from  the  hill  of  Hissarlik  is  extremel}'  magnifi- 
cent. Before  it  lies  the  glorious  Plain  of  Troy,  which  is  covered 
with  grass  and  yellow  buttercups;  en  the  north  northwest,  at 
about  an  hour's  distance,  it  is  bounded  by  the  Hellespont.  The 
peninsula  of  Gallipoli  here  runs  out  to  a  point,  upon  which  stands 
a  lighthouse.  To  the  left  of  it  is  the  island  of  Imbros,  above 
which  rises  Mount  Ida  of  the  island  of  Samothrace,  at  present 
covered  with  snow;  a  little  more  to  the  west,  on  the  Macedo- 
nian peninsula,  lies  the  celebrated  Mount  Athos,  or  Monte  Santo, 
with  its  monasteries,  at  the  northwestern  side  of  which  there  are 
still  to  be  seen  traces  of  that  great  canal,  which,  according  to 


388 


TROY. 


Herodotus  (vii.  22,  23),  was  made  by  Xerxes,  in  order  to  avoid 
sailing  round  the  stormy  Cape  Atlios. 

Returning  to  the  Plain  of  Troy  we  see  to  the  right  of  it, 
upon  a  spur  ot"  the  promontory  of  Rhceteum,  the  sepulchral 
mound  of  Ajax,  at  the  foot  of  the  opposite  Cape  of  Sigeum  that 
of  Patroclus,  and  upon  a  spur  of  the  same  cape  the  sepulchre  of 
Achilles;  to  the  left  of  the  latter,  on  the  promontory  itself,  is  the 
Village  of  Yenishehr.  The  Plain,  which  is  about  two  hours' 
journey  in  breadth,  is  thence  bounded  on  the  west  by  the  shores 
of  the  yEgean,  which  are,  on  an  average,  about  131  feet  high, 
and  upon  which  we  see  tirst  the  sepulchral  mound  of  Festus,  the 
confidential  friend  of  Caracalla,  whom  the  Emperor  (according 
to  Herodian  IV.)  caused  to  be  poisoned  on  his  visit  to  Ilium, 
that  he  might  be  able  to  imitate  the  funeral  rites  which  Achilles 
celebrated  in  honor  of  his  friend  Patroclus,  as  described  by 
Homer.  Then  upon  the  same  coast  thei'e  is  another  sepulchral 
mound,  called  Udjeh-Te^e^  rather  more  than  78^  feet  in  height, 
which  most  archaeologists  consider  to  be  that  of  the  old  man 
uE)svctes,  from  which  Polites,  trusting  to  the  swiftness  of  his  feet, 
watched  to  see  when  the  Greek  army  would  set  tbrth  from  the 
ships. 

"Swift  Iris  stood  amidst  them,  and  the  voice 
Assuming  of  Polites,  Priam's  son, 
The  Trojan  scout,  who,  trusting  to  his  speed, 
Was  posted  on  the  summit  of  the  mound 
Of  ancient  iEsyetes,  there  to  watch 
Till  from  their  ships  the  Grecian  troops  should  march — " 

Between  the  last-named  tnounds  we  see  projecting  above  the 
high  shores  of  the  ^Elgean  Sea  the  island  of  Tenedos,  to  which 
the  crafty  Greeks  withdrew  their  fleet  when  thev  pretended  to 
abandon  the  siege.  To  the  south  we  see  the  Plain  of  Troy, 
extending  again  to  a  distance  of  two  hours,  as  far  as  the  heights 
of  P)unarbashi,  above  which  rises  majestically  the  snow-capped 
Ciargarus  of  Mt.  Ida,  from  which  Jupiter  witnessed  the  battles 
between  the  Trojans  and  the  Greeks. 


SETTLEMENT    OF    TROY. 


389 


One  of  the  greatest  difficulties  has  been  to  make  the  enor- 
mous accumulation  of  debris  at  Troy  agree  with  chronology ;  and 
in  this  Dr.  Schliemann  only  partially  succeeded.  According  to 
Herodotus  (vii.  43):  "Xerxes  in  his  march  through  the  Troad, 
before  invading  Greece  (B.  C.  480)  arrived  at  the  Scamander  and 
went  up  to  Priam's  Pergamus,  as  he  wished  to  see  that  citadel; 
and,  after  having  seen  it,  and  inquired  into  its  past  fortunes,  he 
sacrificed  1,000  oxen  to  the  Ilian  Athena,  and  the  Magi  poured 
libations  to  the  manes  of  the  heroes." 

This  passage  tacitly  implies  that  at  that  time  a  Greek  colony 
had  long  since  held  possession  of  the  town,  and  according  to 
Strabo's  testimony  (XIII.  i.  42),  such  a  colony  built  Ilium  during 
the  dominion  of  the  Lydians.  Now,  as  the  commencement  ot 
the  Lydian  dominion  dates  from  the  year  797  B.  C,  and  as  the 
Ilians  seem  to  have  been  completely  established  there  long  before 
the  arrival  of  Xerxes  in  480   B.  C,  we  may  fairly  assume  that 


their  first  settlement  in  Troy  took  place  about  700  B.  C.  Now, 
there  are  found  no  inscriptions  later  than  those  belonging  to  the 
second  century  after  Christ,  and  no  coins  of  later  date  than  Con- 
stantine  II.,  but  very  many  belonging  to  Constantine  the  Great, 
who,  as  is  well  known,  intended  to  build  Constantinople  on  that 
site,  but  it  remained  an  uninhabited  place  till  about  the  end  of  the 
reign  of  Constans  II.,  that  is  till  about  A.  D.  361.  Since  the  ac 
cumulation  of  debris  during  this  long  period  of  1061  years 
amounts  only  to  six  and  one-half  feet,  whereas  we  have  still  to 
dig  to  a  depth  of  forty  leet,  and  in  places  to  forty-six  and  one- 


390  TROY. 

half  below  this,  before  reaching  the  native  soil,  now  many  years 
did  it  require  to  form  a  la\er  of  forty  to  forty-six  and  one-half 
feet?  The  ibrmation  of  the  uppermost  one,  the  Greek  layer  of 
six  and  one-half  feet  required  1061.  The  time  required  to  cover 
the  foundations  of  Troy  to  a  depth  of  forty-six  and  one-half  feet 
of  c/cdr/s  must  have  been  very  long.  The  first  layer  of  from 
thirteen  to  twenty  feet  on  this  hill  of  Hissarlik  belonged  to  the 
Ar^•an  race,  of  whom  very  little  can  be  said.  The  second  layer 
was  formed  by  the  Trojans  of  Homer,  and  are  supposed,  by  Dr. 
Schliemann  and  others  to  have  flourished  here  about  1400  years 
before  Christ.  We  have  only  the  general  supposition  of  antiquity 
that  the  Trojan  war  occurred  about  B.  C.  1200,  and  Homer's 
statement  that  Dardanus,  the  first  Trojan  King,  founded  Darda- 
nia,  which  town  Virgil  and  Euripides  consider  identical  with 
Ilium,  and  that  after  him  it  was  governed  b\-  his  son  Erichthonms, 
and  then  by  his  grandson  Tros,  by  his  great-grandson  Ilus,  and 
then  by  his  son  Laomedon,  and  by  his  grandson  Priam.  Even  if 
we  allow  every  one  of  these  six  kings  a  long  reign  of  thirty-three 
years,  we  nevertheless  scarcely  carry  the  foundation  of  the  town 
beyond  1400  B.  C,  that  is  700  3'ears  before  the  Greek  colony. 

During  Dr.  Schliemann's  three-year  excavations  in  the  depths 
of  Troy,  he  has  had  daily  and  hourl}^  opportunities  of  convincing 
himself  that,  from  the  standard  of  our  own  or  of  the  ancient  Greek 
mode  of  life,  we  can  form  no  idea  of  the  life  and  doings  of  the 
four  nations  which  successively  inhabited  this  hill  before  the  time 
of  the  Greek  settlement.  They  must  have  had  a  terrible  time  of 
it,  otherwise  we  should  not  find  the  walls  of  one  house  upon  the 
ruined  remains  of  another,  in  continuous  but  irrefriclar  succes- 
sion; and  it  is  just  because  we  can  form  no  idea  of  the  wa}^  in 
which  these  nations  lived  and  what  calamities  they  had  to  endure, 
that  it  is  impossible  to  calculate  the  duration  of  their  existence, 
even  approximately,  from  tlu-  thickness  of  their  ruins.  It  is  ex- 
'vi-nicly  remarkable,  but  perfectly  intelligible  from  the  continual 


FIRST    SETTLERS.  ogi 

calamities  which  befel  tlie  town,  that  the  civilization  of  all  the 
four  nations  constantly  declined;  the  terra-cottas,  which  show  con- 
tinuous decadence^  leave  no  doubt  of  this. 

The  tirst  settlement  on  this  hill  of  Hissarlik  seems  to  have, 
been  of  the  longest  duration,  for  its  ruins  cover  the  rock  to  a 
height  of  from  thirteen  to  twenty  feet.  Its  houses  and  walls  of 
fortification  were  built  of  stones,  large  and  small,  joined  with 
earth,  and  manifold  remains  of  these  may  be  seen  in  the  excava- 
tions. It  was  supposed  that  these  settlers  were  identical  with  the 
Trojans  of  whom  Homer  sang,  which  is  not  the  case. 

All  that  can  be  said  of  the  first  settlers  is  that  they  be- 
longed to  the  Aryan  race,  as  is  suf^ciently  proved  by  the  Aryan 
religious  symbols  met  with  in  the  strata  of  their  ruins,  both  upon 
the  pieces  of  pottery  and  upon  the  small  curious  terra-cottas 
with  a  hole  in  the  centre,  which  have  the  form  of  the  crater  of  a 
volcano  or  of  a  carrousel^  i.  e.,  a  top. 

The  excavations  made  have  sufficiently  proved  that  the  sec- 
ond nation  which  built  a  town  on  this  hill,  upon  the  debris  of  the 
first  settlers  (which  is  from  13  to  20  feet  deep),  are  the  Trojans 
of  whom  Homer  sings.  Their  debris  lies  from  23  to  33  feet 
below  the  surface.  This  Trojan  stratum,  which,  without  excep- 
tion, bears  marks  of  great  heat,  consists  mainl}^  of  red  ashes  of 
wood,  which  rise  from  5  to  10  feet  above  the  Great  Tower  of 
Ilium,  the  double  Scaean  Gate,  and  the  great  enclosing  Wall,  the 
construction  of  which  Homer  ascribes  to  Poseidon  and  Apollo, 
and  they  show  that  the  town  was  destroyed  by  a  fearful  confla- 
gration. How  great  the  heat  must  have  been  is  clear  also  from 
the  large  slabs  of  stone  upon  the  road  leading  from  the  double 
Sc3ean  Gate  down  to  the  Plain;  tor  when  the  road  was  laid  open 
all  the  slabs  appeared  as  uninjured  as  if  they  had  been  put  down 
quite  recently;  but  after  they  had  been  exposed  to  the  air  for  a 
few  days,  the  slabs  of  the  upper  part  of  the  road,  to  the  extent 
of  some  10  feet,  which  had  been  exposed  to   the  heat,  began  to 


392  TROY. 

crumble  away,  and  they  have  now  almost  disappeared,  while 
those  of  the  lower  portion  of  the  road,  which  had  not  been 
touched  by  the  fire,  have  remained  uninjured,  and  seem  to  be 
indestructible.  A  further  proof  of  the  terrible  catastrophe  is 
furnished  by  a  stratum  of  scoriae  of  melted  lead  and  copper, 
from  one  hfth  to  one  and  one  fifth  of  an  inch  thick,  which  ex- 
tends nearly  through  the  w^hole  hill  at  a  depth  of  from  28  to 
291^  feet.  That  Troy  was  destro\ed  by  enemies  after  a  bloody 
war  is  further  attested  by  the  many  human  bones  which  were 
found  in  these  heaps  of  debris,  and  above  all  the  skeletons  with 
helmets,  found  in  the  depths  of  the  Temple  of  Athena,  for,  as  we 
know  from  Homer,  all  corpses  were  burned  and  the  ashes  were 
preserved  in  urns.  Oi  such  urns  were  found  an  immense  num- 
ber in  all  the  pre-Hellenic  strata  on  the  hill.  Lastly,  the  Treas- 
ure, which  some  member  of  the  royal  family  had  probably 
endeavored  to  save  during  the  destruction  of  the  city,  but  was 
forced  to  abandon,  leaves  no  doubt  that  the  city  was  destroyed 
by  the  hands  of  enemies.  This  Treasure  was  found  on  the 
large  enclosing  wall  by  the  side  of  the  royal  palace,  at  a  dep':h 
of  2'jy^  feet,  and  covered  with  red  Trojan  ashes  from  5  to  6^ 
feet  in  depth,  above  which  was  a  post-Trojan  wall  of  fortification 
ig}i  feet  high. 

As  Homer  is  so  well  mformed  about  the  topography  and 
the  climatic  conditions  of  the  Troad,  there  can  surel  be  no 
doubt  that  he  had  himself  visited  Troy.  But,  as  he  was  there 
long  after  its  destruction,  and  its  site  had  moreover  been  buried 
deep  in  the  debris  of  the  ruined  town,  and  had  for  centuries  been 
built  over  by  a  new  town,  Homer  could  neither  have  seen  the 
Great  Tower  of  Ilium  nor  the  Scaean  Gate,  nor  the  great  enclos- 
ing Wall,  nor  the  palace  of  Priam;  for,  as  every  visitor  to  the 
Troad  may  convince  himself  by  the  excavations,  the  ruins  and 
red  ashes  of  Troy  alone — forming  a  layer  of  from  five  to  ten 
feet  thick — covered  all  these  remains  of  immortal  fame,  and  this 


SC^AN    GATE.  ng^ 

accumulation  of  debris  must  have  been  much  more  considerable 
at  the  time  of  Homer's  visit.  Homer  made  no  excavations  so 
as  to  bring  those  remains  to  light,  but  he  knew  of  them  from 
tradition;  for  the  tragic  fate  of  Troy  had  for  centuries  been  in 
the  mouths  of  all  minstrels,  and  the  interest  attached  to  it  was 
so  great  that  tradition  itself  gave  the  exact  truth  in  many 
details. 

"  Say  now,  ye  Nine,  who  on  Olympus  dwell, 
Muses— for  ye  are  Goddesses,  and  ye 
Were  present  and  know  all  things;  we  ourselve* 
But  hear  from  Rumor's  voice,  and  nothing  know — 
Who  were  ihe  chiefs  and  mighty  lords  of  Greece." 

Such,  for  instance,  is  the  memory  of  the  Scaean  Gate  in  the 
Great  Tower  of  Ilium,  and  the  constant  use  of  the  name  Scaean 
Gate  in  the  plural,  because  it  had  to  be  described  as  double,  and 
in  fact  it  has  been  proved  to  be  a  double  gate.  According  to 
the  lines  of  the  Ilaid,  it  now  seems  extremely  probable  that,  at 
the  time  of  Homer's  visit,  the  King  of  Troy  declared  that  his 
race  was  descended  in  a  direct  line  from  ^neas. 

"  But  o'er  the  Trojans  shall  ^neas  reign. 
And  his  sons'  sons,  through  ages  yet  unborn." 

Now,  as  Homer  never  saw  Ilium's  Great  Tower,  nor  the 
Scaean  Gate,  and  could  not  imagine  that  these  buildings  lay 
buried  deep  beneath  his  feet,  and  as  he  probably  imagined  Troy 
to  have  been  very  large — according  to  the  then  existing  poetical 
legends — and  perhaps  wished  to  describe  it  as  still  larger,  we  can 
not  be  surprised  that  he  makes  Hector  descend  from  the  palace 
in  the  Pergamus  and  hurry  through  the  town  in  order  to  arrive 
at  the  Scaean  Gate;  whereas  that  gate  and  Ilium's  Great  Tower, 
in  which  it  stands,  are  in  realit}'  directly  in  front  of  the  royal 
house.  That  this  house  is  really  the  king's  palace  seems  evident 
from  its  size,  from  the  thickness  of  its  stone  walls,  in  contrast  to 
those  of  the  other  houses  of  the  town,  which  are  built  almost 
exclusively  of  unburned  bricks,  and   from   its  imposing  situation 


394 


TROY. 


upon  an  artiticial  hill  directly  in  front  of  or  beside  the  Scsean 
Gate,  the  Great  Tower,  and  the  great  surrounding  Wall.  This 
is  contirmed  by  the  many  splendid  objects  found  in  its  ruins, 
especially  the  enormous  ro\-ally  ornamented  vase  with  the  pic- 
ture of  the  owl-headed  goddess  Athena,  the  tutelary  divinity  of 
Jlium;  and  lastly,  above  all  other  things,  the  rich  Treasure  found 
close  b\-  it.  It  can  not,  of  course,  be  proved  that  the  name  of 
this  king,  the  owner  of  this  Treasure,  was 
really  Priam  ;  but  he  is  so  called  by  Homer 
and  in  all  the  traditions.  All  that  can  be 
proved  is,  that  the  palace  of  the  owner  of 
this  Treasure,  this  last  Trojan  king,  per- 
ished in  the  great  catastrophe,  which  de- 
stroyed the  Scsean  Gate,  the  great  sur- 
rounding Wall,  and  the  Great  Tower,  and 
which  desolated  the  whole  city.  It  can  be 
proved,  by  the  enormous  quantities  of  red 
and  yellow  calcined  Trojan  ruins,  from  five 

to  ten  feet  in  height,  which  covered  and  enveloped  these  edifices, 

and  by  the  many 
post-Trojan  build- 
ings, which  were 
again  erected  up- 
on these  calcined 
heaps  of  ruins, 
that  neither  the  palace  of  the  owner  of  the  Treasure,  nor  the 
Scaean  Gate,  nor  the  great  surrounding  Wall,  nor  Ilium's  Great 
Tower,  were  ever  again  brought  to  light.  A  city,  whose  king 
possessed  such  a  Treasure,  was  immensely  wealth}^,  considering 
the  circumstances  of  these  times;  .and  because  Trov  was  rich  it 
was  powerful,  had  many  subjects,  and  obtained  auxiliaries  from 
all  quarters. 

This  Treasure  of  the  supposed  mA-thical  king  Priam,  of  the 


CALL    OF    MENELAUS. 


395 


mythical  heroic  age,  is,  at  all  events,  a  discovery  which  stands 
alone  in  archaeology,  revealing  great  wealth,  great  civilization 
and  great  taste  for  art,  in  an  age  preceding  the  discovery  of 
bronze,  when  weapons  and  implements  of  pure  copper  were 
employed  contemporaneously  with  enormous  quantities  of  stone 
weapons  and  implements.  This  Treasure  further  leaves  no  doubt 
that  Homer  must  have  actually  seen  gold  and  silver  articles 
such  as  he  continually  describes;  it  is,  in  every  respect,  of  ines- 
timable value  to  science,  and  will  for  centuries  remain  the  object 
of  careful  investigation. 

While  the  Trojan  war  was  the  last  it  was  also  the  greatest 
of  all  the  achievements  of  the  heroic  age,  and  was  immortalized 
by  the  genius  of  Homer.  Paris,  son  of  Priam,  king  of  Ilium  or 
Troy,  abused  the  hospitality  of  Menelaus,  king  of  Sparta,  oy  car- 
rying off  his  wife  Helen,  the  most  beautiful  woman  of  the  age. 
All  the  Grecian  princes  looked  upon  the  outrage  as  committed 
upon  themselves.  Responding  to  the  call  of  Menelaus,  they  as- 
semble in  arms,  elect  his  brother  Agamemnon,  king  of  M3'cense, 
leader  of  the  expedition,  and  sail  across  the  ^Egean  in  nearly 
1,200  ships  to  recover  the  faithless  fair  one.  Some,  however,  ex- 
celled Agamemnon  in  fame.  Among  them  Achilles  stands  pre- 
eminent in  strength,  beauty  and  value,  while  Ulysses  surpasses 
all  the  rest  in  the  mental  qualities  of  counsel,  subtility  and  elo- 
quence. Thus,  by  the  opposite  endowments,  these  two  heroes 
form  the  centre  of  the  group. 

Among  the  Trojans,  Hector,  one  of  the  sons  of  Priam,  is 
most  distinguished  for  heroic  qualities,  and  forms  a  striking  con- 
trast to  his  handsome,  but  effeminate  brother,  Paris.  It  is  said 
that  even  the  gods  took  part  in  the  contest,  encouraging  their 
favorite  heroes,  and  sometimes  fighting  by  their  side  or  in  their 
stead.  It  was  not  until  the  tenth  year  that  Troy  yielded  to  the 
inevitable  fate.  It  was  delivered  over  to  the  sword  and  its  glory 
sank  in  ashes. 


396 


TROY. 


The  houses  of  Troy  were  all  very  high,  and  had  several 
stones,  as  is  obvious  from  the  thickness  of  the  w^alls,  the  con- 
struction and  colossal  heaps  of  debris.  The  city  was  immensely 
rich,  and  as  it  was  wealthy,  so  was  it  powerful  and  its  buildings 
laro-e.  The  ruins  are  found  in  a  badly  decayed  state,  because  of 
the  ^reat  fires  that  occurred  there,  and  the  neighboring  towns 


liOl  IJK.N    GUI'S    OV    PRIAM. 


were  large!}'  biiilt  with  stone  from  the  ruins  of  Troy;  Archseanax 
is  said  to  have  built  a  long  wall  around  Sigeum  with  its  stones. 

A  portion  of  a  large  building  was  laid  bare,  the  walls  of 
which  are  6^^  feet  thick,  and  consist  for  the  most  part  of  hewn 
blocks  of  limestone  joined  with  clay.  None  of  the  stones  seem 
to  be  more  than  i  foot  9  inches  long,,  and  they  are  so  skillfully 
put  together,  that  the  walls  form  a  smooth  surface.  This  house 
is  built  upon  a  layer  of  yellow  and  brown  ashes  and  ruins,  at  a 
depth  of  20  feet,  and  the  portion  of  the  walls  preserved  reaches 
up  to  within  10  feet  below  the  surface -of  the  hill.  In  the  house, 
as  far  as  has  been  excavated,  only  one  vase,  with  two  breasts  in 
front  and  one  breast  at  the  side,  ha-s  been  found. 

This  is  the  first  house  that  Dr.  Schliemann  excavatt.'d,  which 
is  quite  evident  by  what  he  writes  about  it:  "  It  is  with  a  feeling 
of  great  interest  that,  from  this  great  platform,  that  is.  at  a  per- 
pendicular hci<j:ht  ol'  froi^.i  thirtv-three  to  fortv-two  feet.  I  see  this 


HOUSES    AT    TROY. 


397 


very  ancient  building  (which  may  have  been  erected   looo  years 
before  Christ)  standing  as  it  were  in  mid  air." 

A  room  was  excavated  which  is  ten  feet  high  and  eleven  and 
one-fourth  wide;  it  was  at  one  time  much  higher;  its  length  has 
not  been  ascertained. 

One  of  the  compartments  of  the  uppermost  houses,  below 
the  Temple  of  Athena  and  belonging  to  the  pre-Hellenic  period, 
appears  to  have  been  used  as  a  wine-merchant^s  cellar  or  as  a 
magazine,  for  in  it  there  are  nine  enormous  earthen  jars  of  vari- 
ous forms,  about  five  and  three-fourths  feet  high  and  four  and 
three-fourths  feet  across,  their  mouths  being  from  twenty-nine  and 
one-half  to  thirty-five  and  one-fourth  inches  broad.  Each  of 
these  earthen  jars  has  four  handles,  three  and  three-fourths  inches 
broad,  and  the  clay  of  which  they  are  made  has  the  enormous 
thickness  of  two  and  one-fourth  inches. 

A  house  of  eight  rooms  was  also  brought  to  light  at  a  depth 
of  twenty-six  feet.  It  stands  upon  the  great  Tower,  directly  be- 
low the  Greek  Temple  of  Athena.  Its  walls  consist  of  small 
stones  cemented  with  earth,  and  they  appear  to  belong  to  differ- 
ent epochs;  for,  while  some  of  them  rest  directly  upon  the  stones 
of  the  Tower,  others  were  not  built  till  the  Tower  was  covered 
with  eight  inches,  and  in  several  cases  even  with  three  and  one- 
fourth  feet,  of  debris.  These  walls  also  show  differences  in  thick- 
ness; one  of  them  is  four  and  one-half  feet,  others  are  only 
twenty-five  and  one-half  inches,  and  others  again  not  more  than 
nineteen  and  two-thirds  inches  thick.  Several  of  these  walls  are 
ten  feet  high,  and  on  some  of  them  may  be  seen  large  remnants 
of  the  coatings  of  clay,  painted  yellow  or  white.  Black  marks, 
the  result  of  fire,  upon  the  lower  portion  of  the  walls  of  the  other 
rooms  which  have  been  excavated,  leave  no  doubt  that  their 
floors  were  of  wood,  and  were  destroyed  by  fire.  In  one  room 
uhere  is  a  wall  in  the  form  of  a  semicircle,  which  has  been  burnt 
as  black  as  coal.     All  the  rooms  as  yet  laid  open,  and  not  resting 


;98 


TROY. 


directly  upon  the  Tower,  have  been  excavated  down  to  the  same 
level ;  and,  without  exception,  the  debris  below  them  consists  of 
red  or  \ellow  ashes  and  buri-it  ruins.  Above  these,  even  in  the 
rooms  themselves,  were  iound  nothing  but  either  red  or  yellow 
wood'ashes,  mixed  with  bricks  that  had  been  dried  in  the  sun 
and  subsequently  burnt  by  the  conflagration,  or  black  debris^  the 
remains  of  furniture,  mixed  with  masses  of  small  shells:  in  proof 
ot"  this  there  are  the  many  remains  which  are  still  hanging 
on  the  walls. 

A  \cry  large  ancient  building  was  found  standing  upon  the 
wall  or  buttress.  At  this  place  the  wall  appears  to  be  about 
seventy-nine  feet  wide,  or  thick.  The  site  of  this  building,  upon 
an  elevation,  together  with  its  solid  structure,  leave  no  doubt  that 
it  was  the  grandest  building  in  Troy;  nay,  that  it  must  have  been 
the  Palace  of  Priam.  This  edifice,  now  first  laid  open  from  be- 
neath the  ashes  which  covered  it  in  the  burning  of  the  city,  was 
found  by  Dr.  Schliemann  in  the  very  state  to  which,  in  Homer, 
Agamemnon  threatens  to  reduce  it:  "The  house  of  Priam  black- 
ened ivifh  firey 

Upon  this  house,  by  the  side  of  the  double  gate,  upon 
Ilium's  Great  Tower,  at  the  edge  of  the  v/estern  slope  of  the 
Acropolis,  sat  Priam,  the  seven  elders  of  the  city,  and  Helen; 
^nd  this  is  the  scene  of  the  most  splendid  passage  in  the  Iliad: 

"Attendinnj  tlicrc  on  aged  Priam,  sat 

The  Elders  of  the  city; 

All  these  were  gathered  at  the  Scaean  Gates. 

so  on  Ilion's  Tower 

Sat  the  satre  cliiefs  and  counselors  of  Troy. 
Helen  they  saw,  as  to  the  Tower  she  came." 

From  this  spot  the  company  surveyed  the  whole  plain,  and 
saw  at  the  foot  of  the  Acropolis  the  Trojan  and  the  Achocan 
armies  face  to  face,  about  to  settle  their  agreement  to  let  the  war 
be  decided  by  a  single  combat  between  Paris  and  Menelaus. 

"  Upon  Scamander's  flow( ry  mend  they  stood 
Unnumbered  as  the  vermd  kacea  and  Jlmcers.^' 


OBJECrS    FOUND    IN    HOUSES. 


399 


The  description  which  Homer  gives  of  the  Tower  of  Ilium, 
and  the  incidents  connected  with  it,  corresponds  so  closely  to  the 
tower  which  Dr.  Schliemann  found  that  it  leaves  no  doubt  that 
tne  two  are  identical. 


WONDERFUL  VASES  OF  TERKA-COTTA.     {From  the  Palace  of  Priam,  at  2i^feet) 

"  Now,  with  regard  to  the  objects  found  in  these  houses,  I 
must  first  of  all  mention  having  discovered,  at  a  depth  of  twenty- 
six  feet,  in  the  Palace  of  Priam,  a  splendid  and  brilliant  brown 
vase,  twenty-four  and  one-fourth  inches  high,  with  a  figure  of 
the   tutelar   goddess   of  Troy,    that    is,    with    her   owl's   head, 


4.00 


TROY. 


two  breasts,  a  splendid  necklace,  indicated  by  an  engraved  pattern, 
a  very  broad  and  beautifully  engraved  girdle,   and  other  very 


KnoM    PALACE    OK    PKIAM. 


artistic  decorations;  there  are  no  arms,  nor  are  there  any  indica- 
tions of  thcin.     Unfortunately  this  exquisite  vase  has  suffered  from 


SILVER    VASES. 


401 


the  weight  of  stones  which  lay  upon  it.  No.  4  resembles  an  owl's 
beak,  and  especially  as  this  is  seen  between  the  ear-shaped  orna- 
ments, it  was  doubtless  intended  to  represent  the  image  of  the 
owl  with  upraisec  wings  on  each  side  of  the  vases,  which  image 
received  a  noble  appearance  from  the  splendid  lid  with  a  coronet. 
I  give  a  drawing  of  the  largest  vase  of  this  type,  which  was 
found  a  few  days  ago  in  the  royal  palace  at  a  depth  of  from 
twenty-eight  to  twenty-nine  and  one-half  feet;  on  the  top  of  it  I 
have  placed  the  bell-shaped  lid  with  a  coronet,  which  was  dis- 
covered close  by  and  appears  to  have  belonged  to  it. 

"  I  also  found  in  the  Treasure  three  great  silver  vases,  the 
largest  of  which  is  above  eight  and  one-fourth  inches  high  and 
nearly  eight  inches  in  diameter,  and  has  a  handle  live  and  one- 
half  inches  in  length  and  three  and  one-half  in  breadth.  (No. 
23.)  The  second  vase  is  6.9  inches  high  and  nearly  six  inches  in 
diameter;  another  silver  vase  is  welded  to  the  upper  part  of  it 
(No.  22),  of  which,  however,  only  portions  have  been  preserved. 
No.  19  is  a  splendid  Terra-cotta  vase  from  the  Palace  oi 
Priam.  Tt  is  the  largest  vase  of  the  t3'pe  frequent  in  the  ruins, 
with  two  small  handles  and  two  great  upright  wings.  The  cover 
was  found  near  it. 


"  On  the  south  side  of  the  hill,  where,  on  account  of  the 
slight  natural  slope,  I  had  to  make  my  great  trench  with  an  incli- 
nation of  fourteen  degrees,  I  discovered,  at  a  distance  of  197  feet 
from  the  declivity,  a  Tower,  forty  feet  thick,  which  I  have  un- 
covered on  the  north  and  south  sides  along  the  whole  breadth  of 
26 


402  1'1^<^Y. 

my  trench,  and  have  convinced  myself  that  it  is  built  on  the  rock 
at  a  depth  of  forty-six  and  a  half  feet. 

"  The  Tower  is  at  present  only  twenty  feet  high,  but  the 
nature  of  its  surface,  and  the  masses  of  stones  lying  on  both  sides, 
seem  to  prove  that  it  was  at  one  time  much  higher.  For  the  pres- 
ervation of  what  remains  we  have  only  to  thank  the  ruins  of 
Troy,  which  entirely  covered  the  Tower  as  it  now  stands.  It  is 
probable  that  after  the  destruction  of  Troy  much  more  of  it  re- 
mained standing,  and  that  the  part  which  rose  above  the  ruins 
of  the  town  was  destroyed  by  the  successors  of  the  Trojans, 
who  possessed  neither  walls  nor  fortifications.  The  western  part 
of  the  Tower,  so  far  as  it  is  yet  uncovered,  is  only  from  121  to 
124  feet  distant  from  the  steep  western  slope  of  the  hill;  and, 
considering  the  enormous  accumulation  of  debris^  I  believe  tha^ 
the  Tower  once  stood  on  the  western  edge  of  the  Acropolis, 
where  its  situation  would  be  most  interesting  and  imposing,  for 
its  top  would  have  commanded,  not  only  a  view  of  the  whole  Plain 
of  Troy,  but  of  the  sea  with  the  Islands  of  Tenedos,  Imbros  and 
Samothrace.  There  is  not  a  more  sublime  situation  in  the  area 
of  Troy  than  this,  and  I  therefore  presume  that  it  is  the  '  Great 
Tower  of  Ilium  '  which  Andromache  ascended  because  '  she 
had  heard  that  the  Trojans  were  hard  pressed  and  that  the 
power  of  the  Acha^ans  was  great.' 

" '  But  to  tlie  hei,2;ht  of  Ilion's  topmost  tower 
Andromacbo  is  gone;  since  tidings  came 
The  Trojan  force  was  overmatched,  and  great 
Tlie  Grecian  strength.' 

"  After  having  been  buried  for  thirty-one  centuries,  and 
after  successive  nations  have  built  their  houses  and  palaces  high 
above  its  summit  during  thousands  of  years,  this  Tower  has  now 
again  been  brought  to  light,  and  commands  a  view,  if  not  of  the 
whole  Plain,  at  least  of  the  northern  part  and  of  the  Hellespont. 
May  this   sacred   and  sublime  monument  of  Greek  heroism  for- 


TAKING    OUT    THE    TREASURE. 


403 


ever  attract  the  eyes  of  those  who  sail  through  the  Hellespont! 
May  it  become  a  place  to  which  the  inquiring  youth  of  all  future 
generations  shall  make  pilgrimage  to  fan  their  enthusiasms  for 
knowledge,  and  above  all  for  the  noble  language  and  literature 
of  Greece! 

"  Directly  by  the  side  of  the  Palace  of  King  Priam  I  came 
upon  a  large  copper  article  of  the  most  remarkable  form,  which 
attracted  my  attention  all  the  more  as  I  thought  I  saw  gold 
behind  it.  On  the  top  of  this  copper  article  lay  a  stratum  of  red 
and  calcined  ruins,  from  four  and  three-quarters  to  five  and  one- 
quarter  feet  thick,  as  hard  as  stone,  and  above  this  again  lay  a 
wall  of  fortification  (six  feet  broad  and  twenty  feet  high)  which 
was  built  of  large  stones  and  earth,  and  must  have  belonged 
to  an  earl}'  date  after  the  destruction  of  Troy.  In  order  to 
withdraw  the  Treasure  from  the  greed  of  my  workmen,  and 
to  save  it  for  archaeology,  I  had  to  be  most  expeditious,  and 
although  it  was  not  yet  time  for  breakfast,  I  immediately  had 
breakfast  called.  While  the  men  were  eating  and  resting  I 
cut  out  the  Treasure  with  a  large  knife,  which  it  was  impos- 
sible to  do  without  the  very  greatest  exertion  and  the  most 
fearful  risk  of  my  life,  for  the  great  fortification  wall,  be- 
neath which  I  had  to  dig,  threatened  every  moment  to  fall 
down  upon  me.  But  the  sight  of  so  many  objects,  every  one  of 
which  is  of  inestimable  value  to  archaeology,  made  me  foolhardy, 
and  I  never  thought  of  any  danger.  It  would,  however,  have 
been  impossible  for  me  to  have  removed  the  Treasure  without 
the  help  of  my  dear  wife,  who  stood  by  me  ready  to  pack  the 
things  which  I  cut  out  in  her  shawl  and  to  carry  them  away. 

"  The  first  thing  I  found  was  a  large  copper  shield,  in  the 
form  of  an  oval  salver,  in  the  middle  of  which  is  a  knob  or  boss 
encircled  by  a  small  furrow.  It  is  a  little  less  than  twenty  inches 
in  length,  is  quite  flat,  and  surrounded  by  a  rim  one  and  one-half 
inches  high;    the  boss    is   two    and    one-third    inches   high    and 


404 


i  ROY 


four  and  one  third  inches  in  diameter;  the  furrow  encirchng  it 
is  seven  inches  in  diameter  and  two-fifths  of  an  inch  deep. 
This  round  shield  of  copper  (or  bronze?)  with  its  central  boss, 


TKEASUltES  OF   PKIAM. 

and  the  furrow  and  rim  so  suitable  for  holding  together  a  cover- 
ing of  ox-hides,  reminds  one  irresistibly  of  the  seven-fold  shield 
of  Ajax  ( ///W  vii.  219-223): 


SHIELD    OF    THE    TREASURE.  405 

" '  Ajax  approached ;  before  him,  as  a  tower, 

His  mighty  shield  he  bore,  seven-fold,  brass-bound, 

The  work  of  Tychius,  best  artificer 

That  wrought  in  leather;  he  in  Hyla  dwelt 

Of  seven-fold  hides  the  ponderous  shield  was  wrought 

Of  lusty  bulls;  the  eighth  was  glittering  brass.' 

"  It  is  equally  striking  to  compare  the  shield  of  the  Treas- 
ure with  the  description  of  Sarpedon's  shield,  with  its  round 
plate  of  hammered  copper  (or  bronze),  and  its  covering  of  ox- 
hides, fastened  to  the  inner  edge  of  the  rim  by  gold  wires  or 
rivets  (^Iliad  xa\.  294-297): 

"'  His  shield's  broad  orh  before  his  breast  he  bore, 

Well  wrought,  of  beaten  brass,  which  the  armorer's  hand 
Had  beaten  out,  and  lined  with  stout  bull's  hide 
With  golden  rods,  continuous,  all  around.' 

"  The  second  object  which  I  got  out  was  a  copper  caldron  with 
two  horizontal  handles.  It  is  sixteen  and  one-half  inches  in 
diameter  and  five  and  one-half  inches  high;  the  bottom  is  flat, 
and  is  nearly  eight  inches  in  diameter.  In  the  Iliad  this  vessel  is 
used  almost  always  as  a  caldron,  and  is  often  given  as  a  prize  at 
games;  in  the  Odyssey  it  is  always  used  for  washing  the  hands 
or  feet.  This  one  shows  the  marks  of  a  fearful  conflagfratioa 
and  near  the  left  handle  are  seen  two  fragments  of  copper 
weapons  (a  lance  and  a  battle-ax)   firmly  molten  on.     (See  No. 

25-) 

"  The  third  object  was  a  copper  plate  two- fifths  of  an  inch 
thick,  six  and  one-third  inches  broad,  and  seventeen  and  one-third 
inches  long;  it  has  a  rim  about  one-twelfth  of  an  inch  high;  at 
one  end  of  it  there  are  two  immovable  wheels  with  an  axle-tree. 
This  plate  is  very  much  bent  in  two  places,  but  I  believe  that 
these  curvatures  have  been  produced  by  the  heat  to  which  the 
article  was  exposed  in  the  conflagration;  a  silver  vase  four  and 
three-fourths  inches  high  and  broad  has  been  fused  to  it ;  I  suppose, 
however,  that  this  also  happened  by  accident  in  the  heat  of  the 
fire.     (See  No.  14.) 


406 


TROY. 


''  This  remarkable  object  lay  at  the  top  of  the  whole  mass, 
and  I  suppose  it  to  have  Ibrmed  a  hasp  to  the  lid  of  the  wooden 
chest  in  wliich  the  Treasure  was  packed.     The   fourth   article  I 


MM^v^' 


•  • ,  IS 

o 


brought  out  was  a  copper  v^ase  five  and  one-half  inches  high  and 
four  and  one-third   inches   in   diameter.     Thereupon   followed   a 
globular  bottle  of  the  purest  gold,  weighing  6,220 
grains,  or  above  one   pound  troy;    it   is   nearly   six 
inches  high  and  five  and  one-half  inches   in    diam- 
eter,   and    has  the    commencement    of    a    zigzag 
decoration    on   the   neck,   which^ 
however,    is    not     continued    all 
round.       Then  came  a  cup,  like- 
wise of  the  purest  gold,  weighini: 
seven  and  one-fourth  oz.  troy;    it 
is  three  and  one-half  inches   high 
and    three    inches    broad.      (See 
Nos.  4  and  12.) 
"  Next   came   another  cup   of  purest  gold,  weighing  about 
one    pound  and  six  o/.  trf)\':  it  is  three  and  one-half  inches  high, 


CONTENTS    OF    THE    TREASURE. 


407 


seven  and  one-fourth  inches  long,  and  seven  and  one-fifth 
inches  broad;  it  is  in  the  form  of  a  ship,  with  two  large 
handles;  on  one  side  there  is  a  mouth  one  and  one-fifth  inches 
broad,  for  drinking  out  of,  and  another  at  the  other  side  two  and 
three-fourths  inches  broad.  Prof.  Stephanos  Kumanudes,  of 
Athens,  remarks,  the  person  who  presented  the  filled  cup  may 
have  first  drank  from  the  small  mouth  as  a  mark  of  respect,  to 
let  the  guest  drink  from  the  larger  mouth.     CSee  No.  10.) 


POUND   IN   THE   PALACE   OF   PRIAM. 


"  The  Treasure  further  contained  a  small  cup  of  gold  weigh- 
ing two  and  one-fourth  oz.  troy ;  also  six  pieces  of  the  purest 
silver  in   the   form   of  large  knife   blades;  they   have   all  been 


wrought  with  a  hammer. 


"I  also  found  in  the  Treasure  three  great  silver  vases,  the 


4o8 


TROY. 


largest  of  which  is  above  eight  and  one-fourth  inches  high  and 
nearly  eight  inches  in  diameter,  and  has  a  handle  five  and  one- 
half  inches  in  length  and  three  and  one-half  in  breadth;  I  found 
besides  a  number  of  silver  goblets  and  cups.  Upon  and  beside 
the  gold  and  silver  articles  I  found  thirteen  copper  lances;  also 
fourteen  copper  weapons,  which  are  frequently  met  with  here, 
and  seven  large  double-edged  copper  daggers. 

"As  I  found  all  these  articles  together,  forming  a 
rectano-ular  mass ,  or  packed  into  one  another,  it  seems 
to  be  certain  that  they  were  placed  on  the  city  wall  in 

a  wooden  chest,  such  as  those  mentioned  by  Homer  as       

being  in  the  Palace  of  King  Priam.  This  appears  to  'g^'f}i 
be  the  more  certain,  as  close  by  the  side  of  these  arti- 
cles I  found  a  copper  key  above  four  inches  long,  the 
head  of  which  (about  two  inches  long  and  broad) 
greatly  resembles  a  large  safe-key  of  a  bank.  Curi- 
ously enough  this  key  has  had  a  wooden  handle. 

"  That  the  Treasure  was  packed  together  at  terri- 
ble risk  of  life,  and  in  the  greatest  anxiety,  is  proved 
among  other  things  also  by  the  contents  of  a  large 
silver  vase,  at  the  bottom  of  which  I  found  two  gold 
diadems,  a  fillet  and  four  beautiful  ear-rings  of  most 
exquisite  workmanship;  upon  these  lay  fifty-six  gold 
ear-rings  of  exceedingly  curious  form,  and  8,750  small  gold 
rings,  perforated  prisms  and  dice,  gold  buttons  and  similar  jewels; 
then  followed  six  gold  bracelets,  and,  on  the  top  of  all,  the  two 


small  gold  goblets. 


Some  of  these  are  mentioned  by  Homer: 


"  'Far  ofF  were  flung  the  adornments  of  her  head; 
The  net,  tlie  fillet,  and  the  woven  band, 
The  nuptial-veil  by  golden  Venus  given.' 

"  The  one  diadem  consists  of  a  gold  fillet,  twenty-one  and 
two-thirds  inches  long  and  nearly  half  an  inch  broad,  from  which 
there    hanjj    on    either    side    seven    little    chains    to    cover    the 


EAR-RINGS    AND    CHAINS. 


temples,  each  of  which  has  eleven  square  leaves 
v^ith  a  groove;  these  chains  are  joined  to  one 
another  by  lour  little  cross  chains,  at  the  end  of 
which  hangs  a  glittering  golden  idol  of  the  tutelar 
goddess  of  Troy,  nearl}-  an  inch  long. 
The  entire  length  of  each  of  these 
chains,  with  the  idols,  amounts  to  ten 
and  one-quarter  inches.  Almost  all 
these  idols  have  something  of  the 
human  form,  but  the  owl's  head  with 
the  two  large  eyes  can  not  be  mis- 
taken; their  breadth  at  the  lower 
end  is  about  nine-tenths  of  an  inch. 
Between  these  orna- 
ments for  the  tem- 
ples there  are  forty- 
seven  little  pendant  chains  adorned 
with  square  leaves ;  at  the  end  of 
each  little  chain  is  an  idol  of  the 
tutelar  goddess  of  Ilium,  about 
three-quarters  of  an  inch  long; 
the  length  of  these  little  chains 
with  the  idols  is  not  quite  four 
inches.  The  fillet  is  above 
eighteen  inches  long  and  two- 
fifths  of  an  inch  broad,  and  has 
three  perforations  at  each  end. 
Eight  quadruple  rows  of  dots  divide  it  into  nine 

compartments,  in  each 
of  which  there  are  two 
large  dots,  and  an  unin- 
terrupted row  of  dots 
adorns  the  whole  edge. 
(See  Fig.  i.)  Of  the 
four  ear-rings  only  two 


iSo^O., 


<f^ 


^ 


410  ''■'^'^^■• 

are  exactly  alike:  irom  the  upper  part,  which  is  almost  in  the 
shape  of  a  basket,  and  is  ornamented  with  two  rows  of  decora- 
tions in  the  ibrm  ot"  beads,  there  liang  six  small  chains  on  which 
are  three  little  c\linders;  attached  to  the  end  of  the  chains  are 
small  idols  ot"  the  tutelar  goddess  oi"  Tro}'.  The  length  of  each 
ear-ring  is  three  and  one-half  inches.  The  upper  part  of  the 
other  two  ear-rings  is  larger  and  thicker,  but  likewise  almost  in 
the  shape  of  a  basket;  from  it  are  suspended  five  little  chains  en- 
tirely covered  with  small  round  leaves,  on  which  are  likewise 
fastened  small  but  more  imposing  idols  of  the  Ilian  tutelar  divin- 
ity; the  length  of  one  of  these  pendants  is  three  and  one-half 
inches,  that  of  the  other  a  little   over  three    inches.     (See   Fig, 

17.) 

"  Homer,  in  the  Iliad,  sings  of  '  beautifully  twined  tassels  of 

solid  sold  '  which  adorned  Athene; 

" '  All  around 
A  hundred  tassels  hung,  rare  works  of  art, 
xVll  gold,  each  one  a  hundred  oxen's  price.' 

"  Again,  when  Hera  adorns  herself  to  captivate  Jove,  her 
zone  is  fringed  with  a  hundred  tassels,  and  her  ear-rings  are 
described  in  terms  corresponding  exactly  to  the  triple  leaves 
above  described: 

"  '  Her  zonf>,  from  which  a  hundred  tassels  hung, 
She  gi  rt  above  her ;  and,  in  three  bright  drops, 
Her  glittering  gems  suspended  from  her  ears. 
And  all  around  her  grace  and  beauty  shone.' 

"  Of  the  six  gold  bracelets  two  are  quite  simple,  and  closed^ 
but  consist  of  an  ornamented  band  one-twenty-fifth  of  an  inch 
thick  and  one-fourth  of  an  inch  broad.  The  other  three  are 
double,  and  the  ends  are  turned  round  and  furnished  with  a  head. 
The  princess  who  wore  these  bracelets  must  have  had  unusually 
small  hands,  for  they  are  so  small  that  a  girl  of  ten  would  have 
difficult V  in  putting  them   on. 

"  The  liftN-six  otlier  u^old  ear-rings  are  of  various  sizes,  and 


GOLD    BUTTONS,  STUDS,  ETC. 


411 


three  of  them  appear  to  have  also  been  used  b}'  the  princesses 
of  the  royal  family  as  finger-rings.  Also  gold  buttons  were 
found,  or  studs,  one-sixth  of  an  inch  high,  in  the  cavity  of  which 
is  a  ring  above  one-tenth  of  an  inch  broad  for  sewing  them  on; 
gold  double  buttons,  exactly  like  our 
shirt  studs,  three-tenths  of  an  inch 
long,  which,  however,  are  not  sol- 
dered, but  simply  stuck  together,  for 
from  the  cavity  of  the  button  there 
projects  a  tube,  nearly  one-fourth  of 
an  inch  long,  and  from  the  other  a 
pin  of  the  same  length,  and  the  pin 
is  merely  stuck  into  the  tube  to  form 
a  double  stud.  (See  Fig.  No,  16.) 
These  double  buttons  or  studs  can 

only    have  been  used,   probably,  as 

•^  *•  •'six  golden  bracelets  welded  to- 

ornament   upon  leather  articles,  for     gether  by  the  conflagration. 

instance  upon   the   handle-straps  of   swords,   shields,  or  knives. 
I  found   in  the  vase   also  two  gold  cylinders  above  one-tenth  of 

an  inch  long;  also  a  small  peg  above  four- 
fifths  of  an  inch  in  length,  and  from   six 
one-hundreths  to  eio-ht  one-hundreths  of 
an  inch  thick;    it  has  at  one  end  a  per- 
forated hole  for  hanging  it  up,  and  on  the 
other  side  six  encircling  incisions,  which 
give  the  article  the  appearance  of  a  screw; 
it  is  onl}^  by  means  of  a  magnifying  glass 
that  it  is  found  not  to  be  really  a  screw. 
I  also  found  in  the   same  vase  two  pieces  of  gold,  one  of  which 
is  one-seventh  of  an  inch,  the  other  above  two  inches  long;  each 
of  them  has  twenty-one  perforations. 

"  The  persons  who  endeavored  to  save  the  Treasure  had  for- 
tunately the  presence  of  mind  to  stand  the  silver  vase,  containing 


412  TROY. 

tlie  valuable  articles  described  above,  upright  in  the  chest,  so 
that  not  so  much  as  a  bead  could  tall  out,  and  everything  has 
been  preserved  uninjured. 

••  M.  Landerer,  of  Athens,  a  chemist  well  known  through 
his  discoveries  and  writings,  who  has  most  carefully  examined 
all  the  copper  articles  of  the  Treasure,  and  analyzed  the  frag- 
ments, finds  that  all  of  them  consist  ol"  pure  copper  without  any 
admixture  of  tin  or  zinc,  and  that,  in  order  to  make  them  more 
durable,  they  have  been  wrought  with  the  hammer. 

''  As  I  hoped  to  tind  other  treasures  here,  and  also  wished 
to   bi'ing   to   light  the   wall   surrounding   Troy,  the   erection   of 


which  Homer  ascribes  to  Poseidon  and  Apollo,  as  far  as  the 
Scacan  Gate,  I  have  entirely  cut  away  the  upper  wall,  which 
rested  partly  upon  the  gate,  to  an  extent  of  tifty-six  feet.  Vis- 
itors to  the  Troad  can,  however,  still  see  part  of  it  in  the 
northwest  earth-wall  opposite  the  Seaman  Gate.  I  have  also 
broken  down  the  enormous  block  of  earth  which  separated  my 
western  and  northwestern  cutting  from  the  Great  Tower.  The 
result  of  this  new  excavation  is  very  important  to  archaeology, 
for  I  have  been  able  to  uncover  several  walls,  and  also  a  room 
of  the  Royal  Palace,  twenty  feet  in  length  and  breadth,  upon 
which  no  buildings  of  a  later  period  rest. 

"  Ol  the  objects  discovered  there  I  have  only  to  mention  an 
excellently  engraved  inscription  found  upon  a  square  piece  of  red 
slate,  which  has  two  holes  not  bored  through  it  and  an  encircling 
incision,  but  neither  can  my  learned  friend  Emile  Burnouf  nor 
I  tc-11  in  what  language  the  inscription  is  written.      Further,  there 


SILVER    GOBLET    AND    VASES. 


413 


were  some  interesting  terra-cottas,  .-^mong  which  is  a  vessel 
quite  the  form  of  a  modern  cask,  and  with  a  tuoe  in  the  centre 
for  pouring  in  and  drawing  off  the  Hquid.  There  were  also 
found  upon  the  walls  of  Troy,  one  and  three-fourths  feet  below 
the  place  where  the  Treasure  was  discovered,  three  silver  dishes, 
two  of  which  were  broken  to  pieces  in  digging  down  the  debris^ 
they  can,  however,  be  repaired,  as  I  have  all  the  pieces.  These 
dishes  seem  to  have  belonged  to  the  Treasure,  and  the  fact  of 
the  latter  having  otherwise  escaped  our  pickaxes  is  due  to  the 
above  mentioned  large  copper  vessels  which  projected,  so  that  I 
could  cut  everything  out  of  the  hard  debris  with  a  knife. 

"  I  found,  further,  a  silver  goblet  above  three  and  one-third 
inches  high,  the  mouth  of  which  is  nearly  tour  inches  in  diame- 
ter; also  a  silver  flat  cup  or  dish  Ave  and  one-half  inches  in 
diameter,  and  two  beautiful  small  silver  vases  of  most  exquisite 
workmanship.  The  larger  one,  which  has  two  rings  on  either 
side  for  hanging  up  by  strings,  is  nearly  eight  inches  high  with 
its  hat-shaped  lid,  and  three  and  one-half  inches  in  diameter 
across  the  bulge.  The  smaller  silver  vase,  with  a  ring  on  either 
side  for  suspension  by  a  string,  is  about  six  and  three-fourths 
inches  high,  with  its  lid,  and  above  three  inches  broad. 

"  I  now  perceive  that  the  cutting  which  I  made  in  April  was 
exactly  at  the  proper  point,  and  that  if  I  had  only  continued  it  I 
should  in  a  few  weeks  have  uncovered  the  most  remarkable 
buildings  in  Troy,  namel}^,  the  Palace  of  King  Priam,  the  Scsean 
Gate,  the  Great  Surrounding  Wall,  and  the  Great  Tower  of 
Ilium;  whereas,  in  consequence  of  abandoning  this  cutting,  I  had 
to  make  colossal  excavations  from  east  to  west  and  from  north  to 
south  through  the  entire  hill  in  order  to  find  those  most  interest- 
ing buildings. 

"In  the  upper  strata  of  the  north  western  and  western  exca- 
vations we  came  upon  another  great  quantity  of  heads  of  beauti- 
ful terra-cotta  figures  of  the  best  Hellenic  period,  and  at  a  depth 


414  TROY. 

of  twenty-three  leet  upon  some  idols,  as  well  as  the  upper  por- 
tion of  a  vase  with  the  owrs  faee  and  a  lid  in  the  form  of  a 
helmet.  Lids  of  this  kind,  upon  the  edge  of  which  female  hair 
is  indicated  by  incisions,  are  frequently  found  in  all  the  strata 
between  thirteen  and  tiiirty-three  feet  deep,  and  as  they  belong 
to  vases  with  owls'  faces,  the  number  of  lids  gives  us  an  idea  of 
the  number  of  the  vases  with  the  figure  of  the  owl-headed 
Athene,  wiiich  existed  here  in  Troy 

''  Homer  rarely  mentions  temples,  and,  although  he  speaks  of 
the  Temple  of  Athene,  3'et,  considering  the  smallness  of  the  city, 
it  is  very  doubtful  whether  it  actually  existed.  It  is  probable 
that  the  tutelar  goddess  at  that  time  possessed  only  the  sacrificial 
altar  which  I  discovered,  and  the  crescent  form  of  which  greatly 
resembles  the  upper  portion  of  the  ivory  idol  found  in  the  lowest 
strata  as  well  as  the  one  end  of  the  six  talents  contained  among 
the  Treasure. 

"■  Valuable  stones,  such  as  those  large  flags  which  cover  the 
road  leading  from  the  Scsean  Gate  to  the  Plain,  as  well  as  the 
stones  of  the  enclosing  wall  and  of  the  Great  Tower,  have  been 
left  untouched,  and  not  a  single  stone  of  the  Sccean  Gate  is 
wanting.  Nay,  with  the  exception  of  the  houses  which  I  myself 
destroyed,  it  would  be  quite  possible  to  uncover  the  '  carcasses  ' 
of  all  the  houses,  as  in  the  case  of  Pompeii.  The  houses  must 
have  been  very  high,  and  a  great  deal  of  wood  must  have  been 
used  in  their  construction,  for  otherwise  the  conflagration  could 
not  have  produced  such  an  enormous  quantity  of  ashes  and  rub- 
bish. 

"  Upon  and  beside  the  gold  and  silver  articles,  I  found  thir- 
teen copper  lances,  from  nearly  seven  to  above  twelve  and  one- 
half  inches  in  length,  and  Irom  above  one  and  one-half  to  two 
and  one-third  inches  broad  at  the  broadest  point;  at  the  lower 
end  of  each  is  a  hole,  in  which,  in  most  cases,  the  nail  or  peg 
which  fastened  the  lance  to   the  wooden   handle   is  still  sticking-. 


WEAPONS    OF    TROY 


415 


The  pin-hole  is  clearly  visible  in  a  lance-head  which  the  conflagra- 
tion has  welded  to  a  battle-ax.  The  Trojan  lances  were  there- 
fore quite  different  from  those  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans. 


"  I  also  found  fourteen  of  those  copper  weapons,  which  are 


trequently  met  with  here,  but  which  have  never  been  discovered 


4i6 


TROY. 


elsewhere;  at  one  end  they  are  pointed  but  blunt,  and  at  the  other 
thev  end  in  a  broad  edge.  I  formerly  considered  them  to  be  a 
species  of  lance,  but  now,  after  mature  consideration,  I  am  con- 
vinced that  they  could  have  been  used  only  as  battle-axes.  They 
are  from  above  six  to  above  twelve  inches  in  length,  from  nearly 
one-half  to  above  three-fourths  of  an  inch  thick,  and  from  above 
one  to  nearly  three  inches  broad;  the  largest  of  them  weighs 
about  three  pounds  avoirdupois. 

"  There  were  also  seven 
large  doub^e-edgea  copper 
daggers,  v.  ith  a  handle  from 
about  two  to  two  and  three- 
fourths  inches  long,  the  end 
of  which  is  bent  round  at  a 
right  angle.  These  handles 
must  at  one  time  have  been 
encased  in  wood,  for  if  the 
cases  had  been  made  of 
bone  they  would  still  have 
been  wholly  or  partially  pre- 
served. The  pointed  handle 
was  inserted  into  a  piece  of  wood,  so  that  the  end  projected 
About  half  an  inch  beyond  it,  and  this  end  was  simply  bent 
round.  The  largest  of  these  daggers  is  ten  and  two-thirds  inches 
in  length  and  above  two  inches  broad  at  the  broadest  part;  a 
second  dagger,  which  is  above  one  and  three-fourths  inches  broad, 
has  the  point  broken  off,  and  is  now  less  than  nine  inches  long, 
but  appears  to  have  been  eleven  inches;  a  third  dagger  is  eight 
and  two-thirds  inches  long,  and  measures  above  one  and  one- 
fourth  inches  at  the  broadest  point. 

"  On  the  north  side  of  the  hill  I  have  now  also  uncovered 
several  house-walls  at  a  depth  of  forty-two  and  one-half  feet, 
and  also  the  beginning  of  a  remarkable  wall  of  fortification,  the 


TERRA  COTTA  JUGS.  417 

continuation  of  which  may  be  seen  in  the  labyrinth  of  the  house- 
walls  in  the  depths  of  the  Temple  of  Athene.  On  the  north 
side,  above  the  primary  soil,  I  have  also  brought  to  light  a  por- 
tion of  the  pavement  already  mentioned,  composed  of  small, 
round,  white  sea-pebbles,  below  which  are  the  calcined  ruins  of 
a  building  which  formerly  stood  there. 

"  Among  some  very  remarkable  terra-cottas  discovered 
bince  my  last  report  I  must  mention  two  jugs  found  on  the 
north  side,  at  a  depth  of  from  twenty-three  to  twenty-six  feet, 
each  of  which  has  two  upright  necks  standing  side  by  side,  but 
their  handles  are  united.  One  of  them  has  also  beside  the 
mouths  two  small  elevations,  which  may  probably  indicate  eyes. 
0{  a  third  jug  of  this  kind  I  only  found  the  upper  portion.  I 
must  also  mention  an  exceedingly  curious  cup,  discovered  at  a 
depth  of  thirteen  feet,  which  consists  of  a  tube  resting  upon  three 
feet  and  ending  in  one  large  and  two  small  goblets;  the  larger 
goblet  is  connected  with  the  opposite  side  of  the  tube  by  a 
handle.  At  the  same  depth  I  met  with  a  large  vase,  from 
which  projects  a  separate  small  vase;  it  is  ornamented  with 
incisions,  and  has  three  feet  and  two  very  pretty  handles  and 
rings  for  hanging  it  up.  I  found  likewise,  at  the  depth  of  thir- 
teen feet,  a  vase  with  two  female  breasts,  two  large  handles  and 
engravings  resembling  letters.  Among  other  extremely  curious 
terra-cottas  I  must  also  mention  three  pots  with  three  rows  of 
perforations;  they  have  the  usual  handle  on  one  side  and  three 
feet  on  the  other;  also  three  large  vases  with  perforations  right 
round,  on  all  sides,  from  the  bottom  to  the  top;  their  use  is  a 
riddle  to  me;  can  they  have  served  as  bee-hives.^  Also  a  vessel 
in  the  form  of  a  pig,  with  four  feet,  which  are,  however,  shorter 
than  the  belly,  so  that  the  vessel  can  not  stand  upon  them;  the 
neck  of  the  vessel,  which  is  attached  to  the  back  of  the  pig,  is 
connected  with  the  hinder  part  by  a  handle.  I  further  found  a 
pot  in  the  form  of  a  basket  with  a  handle  crossing  the  mouth, 

27 


4i8 


TROY. 


and  a  tube  in  the  bulge  for  drawing  off  the  liquid.  Also  two 
terra-cotta  funnels,  at  a  depth  of  ten  feet,  with  a  letter  which  I 
have  repeatedly  met  with  on  some  of  the  terra-cottas.  At  a 
depth  of  live  feet  I  found  one  of  those  round  twice-perforated 
terra-cottas  with  a  stamp,  in  which  there  are  Egyptian  hiero- 
glyphics; also  a  dozen  of  the  same  articles  in  the  stamps  of 
which  are  a  crowned  head,  a  bird,  a  dog's  head,  a  flying  man  or 
an  eagle  and  a  stag.  At  a  depth  of  sixteen  and  one-half  feet  I 
found  the  handle  of  a  cup  with  the  beautifully  modeled  head  of 
a  bull. 

'•  Neither  can  I  prove  that  the  terra-cottas  here  frequently 
met  with,  in  the  Ibrm  of  horses'  heads,  represent  the  mother  of 
Hera,  C\bele  or  Rhea,  but  it  is  very  likely,  for,  as  it  is  well 
known,  in  Phr3-gia  she  was  represented  with  a  horse's  head. 
Terra-cotta  idols  of  the  Ilian  Athene  are  rarely  met  with,  but 
we  dail}'  find  marble  idols  of  this  goddess,  most  of  which  have 
almost  a  human  form.  We  also  frequently  come  upon  oblong 
flat  pieces  of  rough  marble  upon  which  the  owl's  face  of  the 
goddess  is  more  or  less  deeply  engraved.  It  is  often  so  finely 
scratched  that  the  aid  of  a  magnifying  glass  is  required  to  con- 
vince one  that  it  actually  exists;  we  found  several  such  pieces 
of  marble  where  the  owl's  head  was  painted  in  a  black  color. 
Since  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  they  are  idols  of  the 
tutelar    divinity  of  Troy  I  have  carefully  collected  them. 

"  In  excavating  the  ground  upon  which  my  wooden  house 
had  stood  we  found,  at  a  depth  of  from  nine  to  nineteen  inches, 

eighteen  copper  and  two  sil- 
ver medals;  one  of  the  latter 
is  of  Marcus  Aurelius.  The 
other  is  a  tetra-drachm  of  the 
island  of  Tenedos ;  on  the  ob- 
verse, to  the  right,  is  the  head 
of  Jupiter,  to  the  left  that  of 
Juno,  both  having  one  neck  in  common,  like  the  heads  of  Janus. 


CONDITION    OF    THE    ROADS.  4I9 

The  head  of  Jupiter  is  crowned  with  laurels,  that  of  Juno  has  a 
wreath  or  crown.  Upon  the  reverse  of  the  coin  there  is  a  laurel 
wreath  round  the  edge,  and  in  the  centre  a  large  double  ax, 
above  which  stands  the  word  Teneelion,  below  and  to  the  riofht 
of  the  handle  of  the  double  ax  there  is  a  winged  Eros,  who  is 
holding  up  an  object  which  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish,  to  the  left 
is  a  bunch  of  grapes  and  a  monogram,  which  looks  like  the 
letter  A. 

"  Of  the  copper  coins  five  are  of  Alexandria  Troas,  two  of 
Ophrynium,  one  of  Tenedos,  two  of  Abydos,  and  one  of  Dar- 
dania. 

"  When  I  uncovered  the  road  paved  with  large  flags  of 
stone,  which  leads  from  the  Scsean  Gate  to  the  Plain,  the  stones 
looked  as  new  as  if  they  had  just  been  hewn.  But  since  then, 
under  the  influence  of  the  burning  sun,  the  flags  of  the  upper 
portion  of  the  road,  which  have  speciall}'  suffered  from  the  con- 
flagration that  destroyed  the  city,  are  rapidly  crumbling  away, 
and  will  probably  have  quite  disappeared  in  a  few  years.  How- 
ever, the  flags  of  stone  on  the  northwestern  half  of  the  road, 
which  have  been  less  exposed  to  the  heat,  may  still  last  many 
centuries. 

"  In  this  day,  closing  the  excavations  at  Ilium  forever,  I  can 
not  but  fervently  thank  God  for  His  great  mercy,  in  that,  not- 
withstanding the  terrible  danger  to  which  we  have  been  exposed 
owing  to  the  continual  hurricanes,  during  the  last  three  years' 
gigantic  excavations,  no  misfortune  has  happened,  no  one  has 
been  killed,  and  no  one  has  been  seriously  hurt. 

"In  my  last  report  I  did  not  state  the  exact  number  of  springs 
in  front  of  the  Ilium.  I  have  now  visited  all  the  springs  myself, 
and  measured  their  distance  from  my  excavations,  and  I  can  give 
the  following  account  of  them.  The  first  spring,  which  is  situ- 
ated directly  below  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  town-wall,  is  exactly 
399  yards  from  my  excavations;  its  water  has  a  temperature  of 


420 


TROY. 


60.8^'  Fahrenheit.  It  is  enclosed  to  a  height  of  six  and-one-half 
feet  b\-  a  wall  of  large  stones  joined  with  cement,  nine  and  one- 
quarter  feet  in  breadth,  and  in  front  of  it  there  are  two  stone 
troughs  for  watering  cattle.  The  second  spring,  which  is  like- 
wise still  below  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  town-wall,  is  exactly  793 
yards  distant  from  my  excavations.  It  has  a  similar  enclosure  of 
large  stones,  seven  feet  high  and  live  feet  broad,  and  has  the  same 
temperature.  But  it  is  out  of  repair,  and  the  water  no  longer 
runs  through  the  stone  pipe  in  the  enclosure,  but  along  the  ground 
before  it  reaches  the  pipe.  The  double  spring  spoken  of  in  my 
last  report  is  exactly  1,033  y^^'^^  from  my  excavations.  It  con- 
sists of  two  distinct  springs,  which  run  out  through  two  stone 
pipes  lying  beside  each  other  in  the  enclosure  composed  of  large 
stones  joined  with  earth,  which  rises  to  a  height  of  seven  feet 
and  is  twenty-three  feet  broad;  its  temperature  is  62.6*^  Fahren- 
heit. In  front  of  these  two  springs  there  are  six  stone  troughs, 
which  are  placed  in  such  a  manner  that  the  superfluous  water 
always  runs  from  the  first  trough  through  all  the  others.  It  is  ex- 
tremely probable  that  these  are  the  two  springs  mentioned  by 
Homer,  beside  which  Hector  w^as  killed. 

"  'Tliey  (Hector  and  Achilles)  in  flight  and  pursuit, 
Tliey  by  the  watch-tower,  and  beneath  the  wall 
Where  stood  the  wind-beat  fig-tree,  raced  amain 
Along  the  public  road,  until  they  reached 
The  fairly-flowing  founts,  whence  issued  forth, 
From  double  source,  Scamander's  eddying  streams. 
One  with  hot  current  flows,  and  from  beneath, 
As  from  a  furnace,  clouds  of  steam  arise; 
'Mid  Summer's  heat  the  other  rises  cold 
As  hail,  or  snow,  or  water  crystallized  ; 
Beside  the  fountains  stood  the  washiug-troughs 
Of  well-wrought  stone,  where  erst  the  wives  of  Troy 
And  daughters  fair  their  choicest  garments  washed, 
In  peaceful  limes,  ere  came  the  sons  of  Greece.' 

''In  this  new  excavation  I  find  four  earthen  pipes,  from  eighteen 
and  three-quarters  to  twenty-two  and  one-quarter  inches  long,  and 


LACK    OF    INSCRIPTIONS. 


42: 


from  six  and  one-half  to  eleven  and  three-quarters  inches  thick, 
laid  together  for  conducting  water,  which  was  brought  from  a 
distance  of  about  seven  miles  from  the  upper  Thymbrius.  This 
river  is  now  called  the  Kemar,  from  the  Greek  word  kamara 
(vault),  because  an  aqueduct  of  the  Roman  period  crosses  its 
lower  course  by  a  large  arch.  This  aqueduct  formerly  supplied 
Ilium  with  drinking  water  from  the  upper  portion  of  the  river. 
But  the  Pergamus  required  special  aqueducts,  for  it  lies  higher 
than  the  city. 

"  Unfortunately  upon  none  of  the  articles  of  the  Treasure  of 

Priam  are  there  found  any  in- 
scriptions or  any  religious  symbols 
except  100  idols  of  the  Homeric 


'owl-faced      goddess       Athene.' 


(Thea  glaukopis  Athene)  which 

glitter  upon  the  two  diadems  and 

the  four  ear-rings.     These  are,  however,  an  undeniable  proof  that 

the  Treasure  belongs  to  the  city  and  to  the  age  of  which  Homer 

sings." 

The  question  asked  is:  Has  Schliemann  found  any  inscrip- 
tions which  throw  the  certain  light  of  written  testimony  on  the 
language,  the  history  and  social  condition,  the  religion,  science 
and  literature  of  the  old  inhabitants  of  the  hill,  whose  records 
form  as  yet  no  part  of  ancient  history.^  Upon  this  point  very 
little  satisfaction  can  be  given,  yet  the  people  of  ancient  Troy 
did  have  a  written  language.  At  a  depth  of  twenty-six  feet,  in 
the  royal  palace,  a  vase  with  an  inscription  was  found.  One  of 
the  letters  resembles  the  Greek  P.  This  same  letter  occurs  on 
a  seal  found  at  a  depth  of  twenty-three  feet ;  two  other  letters 
of  this  inscription  occurred  on  one  other  terra-cotta,  likewise 
found  at  a  depth  of  twenty-three  feet. 

To  Dr.  Martin  Haug  belongs  the  honor  of  first  deciphering 
the  Trojan  inscriptions  on  the   above-mentioned  vase.     He,  not 


422 


TROY. 


without  much  research,  interpreted  it  as  a  dedication  ''  To  the 
divine  Sigo,"  a  deity  whose  name  was  found  in  Sigeum.  The 
transmutation,  however,  seemed  forced;  and,  while  Haug  was 
rio-ht  in  his  method,  his  results  were  pronounced  at  best, 

"  Fragments  of  broken  words  and  thoughts, 
Yet  glimpses  of  the  true." 

Prof  T.  Gomperz,  of  Vienna,  after  making  one  correction  in. 
Hauo-'s  reading,  still  found  it  unsatisfactory,  till  the  thought  struck 
him  of  reading  it  from  right  to  left  round  the  vase,  instead  of 
from  left  to  right,  when  the  confused  syllables  flashed,  as  by  sud- 
den crystallization,  into  the  pure  Greek,  and  read:  "To  the 
divine  Prince." 

Another  inscription  was  found  which  Prof.  Max  Muller  read 
as  the  ver}-  name  of  Ilion.  Others  were  found  which  are  not  as 
yet  interpreted. 


nmnji  -aj^p  ^mvw 


Far  away  from  the  highways  of  modern  commerce  and  the 
tracks  of  ordinary  travel  lay  a  city  buried  in  the  sandy  earth 
of  a  half-desert  Turkish  province,  with  no  trace  of  its  place  of 
sepulture.  Vague  tradition  said  it  was  hidden  somewhere  near 
the  river  Tigris ;  but  for  a  long  series  of  ages  its  existence  in  the 
world  was  a  mere  name — a  word.  That  name  suggested  the  idea 
of  an  ancient  capital  of  fabulous  splendor  and  magnitude;  a  con- 
gregation of  palaces  and  temples,  encompassed  by  vast  walls  and 
ramparts — of  ''the  rejoicing  city  that  dwelt  carelessly;  that 
said  in  her  heart,  I  am,  and  there  is  none  beside  me,"  and  which 
was  to  become  "  a  desolation  and  dry  like  a  wilderness. '^ 

More  than  two  thousand  years  had  it  lain  in  its  unknown 
grave,  when  a  French  savant  and  a  wandering  scholar  sought  the 
seat  of  the  once  powerful  empire,  and  searching  till  they  found  t^*^ 
dead  city,  threw  off  its  shroud  of  sand  and  ruin,  and  revealed 
once  more  to  an  astonished  and  curious  world  the  temples,  the 
palaces,  and  the  idols;  the  representations  of  war  and  the  chase,- 
of  the  cruelties  and  luxuries  of  the  ancient  Assyrians.  The  Nin- 
eveh of  Scripture,  the  Nrneveh  of  the  oldest  historians;  the  Nin- 
eveh— twin  sister  of  Babylon — glorying  in  pomp  and  power,  all 
traces  of  which  were  believed  to  be  gone;  the  Nineveh  in  which 
the  captive  tribes  of  Israel  had  labored  and  wept,  and  against 
which  the  words  of  prophecy  had  gone  forth,  was,  after  a  sleep  of 

423 


424 


NINEVEH    AND    BABYLON. 


twenty  centuries,  again  brought  to  light.  The  proofs  of  ancient 
splendor  were  again  beheld  by  living  eyes,  and  by  the  skill  of 
draftsmen  and  the  pen  of  antiquarian  travelers  made  known  and 
preserved  to  the  world. 

In  the  history  of  Jonah's  visit,  Nineveh  is  twice  described  as 
"that  great  city,"  and  again  as  an  "exceedingly  great  city  of 
three  days'  journey." 

The  measurement  assigned  to  Nineveh  by  the  sacred  writer 
applies,  without  doubt,  to  its  circuit,  and  gives  a  circumference 
of  about  sixt}'  miles. 

None  of  the  historical  books  of  the  Old  Testament  give  any 
details  respecting  Nineveh.  The  prophets,  however,  make  fre- 
quent incidental  allusion  to  its  magnificence,  to  the  "  fenced  place," 
the  "stronghold,"  the  "valiant  men  and  chariots,"  the  "silver 
and  gold,"  the  "pleasant  furniture,"  "  carved  lintels  and  cedar 
work."  Zephaniah,  who  wrote  about  twenty-four  years  before 
the  fall  of  Nineveh,  says  of  it: 

"  This  is  the  rejoicing  city  that  dwelt  carelessly; 
That  said  in  her  heart,  '  I  am,  and  there  is  none  beside  me.' '' 

The  ruins  of  Nineveh  were  virtually  unknown  to  the  ancient 
classical  writers,  though  we  gather  from  all  of  them  that  it  was 
one  of  the  oldest,  most  powerful  and  most  splendid  cities  in  the 
world;  that  it  perished  utterly  many  hundred  years  before  the 
Christian  Era;  and  that  after  its  fall  Babylon  became  the  capital 
Kjt  the  Assyrian  empire,  which  finally  grew  still  greater  and 
mightier.  On  examining  their  details,  we  find  names  confounded, 
incidents  transposed,  and  chronology  by  turns  confused,  extended 
or  inverted.  Difficulties  of  another  and  more  peculiar  kind  beset 
this  path  of  inquir}^  of  which  it  will  suffice  to  instance  one  illus- 
tration— proper  names,  those  fixed  points  in  history  around  which 
the  achievements  or  sufferings  of  its  heroes  cluster,  are  constantly 
shifting  in  the  Assyrian  nomenclature;  both  men  and  gods  being 
designated,  not  by  a  word  composed  of  certain  fixed  sounds  or 


EXPLORATIONS    OF    NIEBUHR    AND    RICH. 


425 


signs,  but  by  all  the  various  expressions  equivalent  to  it  in  mean- 
ing, whether  consisting  of  a  synonym  or  a  phrase.  Hence  we 
find  that  the  names  furnished  by  classic  authors  generally  have 
little  or  no  analogy  with  the  Assyrian,  as  the  Greeks  generally 
construed  the  proper  names  of  other  countries  according  to  the 
genius  of  their  own  language,  and  not  unfrequently  translated  the 
original  name  into  it.  Herodotus,  however,  though  he  mentions 
but  one  Assyrian  king,  gives  his  true  name,  Sennacherib. 

The  immense  mounds  of  brick  and  rubbish  which  marked 
the  presumed  sites  of  Babylon  and  Nineveh  had  been  used  as 
quarries  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  surrounding  country,  from 
time  immemorial,  without  disclosing  to  other  eyes  than  those  of 
the  wild  occupier  of  the  soil  the  monuments  they  must  have 
served  to  support  or  cover.  Though  carefulh-  explored  by  Nie- 
buhr  and  Claudius  James  Rich,  no  other  traces  of  buildings  than 
a  few  portions  of  walls,  of  which  they  could  not  understand  the 
plan,  had  been  presented ;  if,  however,  the  investigations  of  these 
travelers  produced  few  immediate  results,  the  first-named  cer- 
tainly has  the  merit  of  being  the  first  to  break  the  ground,  and 
by  his  intelligence,  to  have  awakened  the  enterprise  of  others. 
Rich,  who  was  the  East  India  Company's  resident  at  Baghdad, 
employed  his  leisure  in  the  investigation  of  the  antiquities  of 
Assyria.  He  gave  his  first  attention  to  Babylon,  on  which  he 
wrote  a  paper,  originally  published  in  Germany — his  countrymen 
apparently  taking  less  interest  in  such  matters  than  did  the  schol- 
ars of  Vienna.  In  a  note  to  a  second  memoir  on  Babylon,  printed 
in  London  in  1818,  we  find  Nineveh  thus  alluded  to  by  Rich.  He 
savs:  "Opposite  the  town  of  Mosul  is  an  enclosure  of  rectangular 
form,  corresponding  with  the  cardinal  points  of  the  compass;  the 
eastern  and  western  sides  being  the  longest,  the  latter  facing  the 
river.  The  area,  which  is  now  cultivated,  and  offers  no  vestiges 
of  building,  is  too  small  to  have  contained  a  town  larger  than 
Mosul,  but  it  may  be  supposed  to  answer  to  the  palace   of  Nin- 


•  26  XIXEVEH    AND    BABYLON. 

eveh.  The  boundary,  which  may  be  perfectly  traced  all  round, 
now  looks  like  an  embankment  of  earth  or  rubbish,  of  small  ele- 
vation; and  has  attached  to  it,  and  in  its  line,  at  several  places, 
mounds  of  greater  size  and  solidity.  The  first  of  these  forms  the 
southwest  angle,  and  on  it  is  built  the  village  of  Nebbi  Younis, 
the  prophet's  tomb  (described  and  delineated  by  Niebuhr  as  Nur- 
ica ),  where  they  show  the  tomb  of  the  prophet  Jonah,  much  re- 
vered by  the  Mohammedans.  The  next,  and  largest  of  all,  is 
the  one  which  may  be  supposed  to  be  the  monument  of  Ninus. 
It  is  situated  near  the  centre  of  the  western  face  of  the  enclosure, 
and  is  joined  like  the  others  by  the  boundary  wall; — the  natives 
call  it  Kouyunjik  Tepe.  Its  form  is  that  of  a  truncated  pyramid, 
with  regular  steep  sides  and  a  flat  top;  it  is  composed,  as  I  ascer- 
tained from  some  excavations,  of  stones  and  earth,  the  latter  pre- 
dominating sufficiently  to  admit  of  the  summit  being  cultivated 
by  the  inhabitants  of  the  village  of  Kouyunjik,  which  is  built  on 
it  at  the  northeast  extremity.  The  only  means  I  had,  at  the 
time  I  visited  it,  of  ascertaining  its  dimensions,  was  by  a  cord 
which  I  procured  from  Mosul.  This  gave  178  feet  tor  the 
greatest  height,  1,850  feet  for  the  length  of  the  summit  east  and 
west,  and  1,147  ^^^  '^^^  breadth  north  and  south. 

This  mound  has  revealed  the  grandest  and  most  stupendous 
remains  of  ancient  Neneveh.  Within  the  boundaries  of  ancient 
walls  there  are  many  mounds  and  elevations.  All  of  them  are 
artificial  and  are  caused  by  the  remains  of  the  ancient  structures. 
Mound  Nimroud  is  about  four  miles  in  circumference  at  its  base, 
on  the  top  of  which  is  a  great  pyramid  mound  777  feet  in  cir- 
cumference and  144^  feet  high. 

M.  Botta  distinctW  traced  the  walls  of  an  enclosure  forming 
nearly  a  perfect  square,  two  sides  of  which  are  5,750  feet,  the 
other  5,400,  or  rather  more  than  a  mile  each  way,  all  the  four 
angles  being  right  angles,  which  face  the  cardinal  points.  M. 
Botta    commenced    researches    in  the    mound   of  Kouyunjik   in 


^28  NIXEVKH    AND    BABYLON. 

1842,  and,  meeting  with  little  sueeess,  he  abandoned  his  exeava- 
tions  in  the  following  year. 

La}ard,  in  1846,  opened  some  trenches  in  the  southern  face 
of  the  mound,  but,  at  that  time,  without  any  important  results. 
At  a  subsequent  period  he  made  some  inquiries  respecting  the 
bas-relief  described  by  Rich,  and  the  spot  where  it  was  discov- 
ered ha\ing  been  pointed  out  to  him  in  the  northern  group  of 
ruins,  he  opened  trenches,  but,  not  finding  any  traces  of  sculp- 
tures, discontinued  his  operations. 

Upon  completing  his  labors  at  Nimroud,  in  1847,  Layard 
determined  on  making  some  farther  researches  at  Kou3'unjik. 
He  commenced  at  the  southwestern  corner,  and  not  only  dis- 
covered the  remains  of  a  palace,  which  had  been  destroyed  b}' 
fire,  but,  within  the  short  space  of  a  month,  had  explored  nine 
of  its  chambers.  All  the  chambers  were  long  and  narrow,  and 
the  walls  lined  with  bas-reliefs  of  larger  size  than  most  of  those 
he  had  found  at  Nimroud.  The  slabs  were  not  divided  b}"  bands 
ot  inscription,  but  were  covered  with  figures  scattered  promiscu- 
oush'  over  the  entire  surface,  all  the  details  being  carefully  and 
delicately  executed.  The  winged  human-headed  bulls  at  the 
entrances  resembled  those  found  at  Khorsabad  and  Persepolis  in 
the  forms  of  the  head-dress,  and  feathered  cap;  and  the  costumes 
of  the  figures  in  general  were  also  like  those  found  at  Khorsabad. 
The  period  of  the  palace  was  conjectured  to  be  between  those  of 
Khorsabad  and  Nimroud.  After  Mr.  Layard  had  left  Mosul, 
Mr.  Ross  continued  the  excavations,  and  discovered  several  ad- 
ditional bas-reliefs — an  entrance,  which  had  been  formed  of  four 
sphinxes,  and  a  very  large  square  slab,  which  he  conjectured  to 
be  a  dais  or  altar,  like  that  found  at  Nimroud. 

Here  he  found  a  chamber  lined  with  sculptured  slabs, 
divided,  like  those  of  Khorsabad  and  Nimroud,  by  bands  of 
inscription,  lie  also  found,  at  the  foot  of  the  mound,  a  monu- 
ment about  three  feet  high,  and  rounded  at  the  top,  containing  a 


EXCAVATIONS    AT    KOUYUNJIK    PALACE.  429 

figure  with  a  long  cuneiform  inscription,  and  above  it  various 
sacred  emblems.  When  discovered  it  was  supported  by  brick- 
work, and  near  it  was  a  sarcophagus  in  baked  clay. 

On  the  departure  of  Mr.  Ross  from  Mosul  the  excavations 
were  placed  under  the  charge  of  Mr.  Rassam,  the  English  consul, 
with  power  to  employ  a  small  body  of  men,  so  as  not  to  entirely 
abandon  possession  of  the  spot. 

Layard  says:  "During  a  short  period  several  discoveries  of 
the  greatest  interest  and  importance  were  made,  both  at  Kou- 
yunjik  and  Nimroud.  I  will  first  describe  the  results  of  the 
excavations  in  the  ruins  opposite  Mosul. 

"Shortly  before  my  departure  for  Europe,  in  1848,  the  fore- 
part of  a  human-headed  bull  of  colossal  dimensions  had  been 
uncovered  on  the  east  side  of  the  Kouyunjik  F^alace.  This 
sculpture  then  appeared  to  form  one  side  of  an  entrace  or  door- 
way. The  excavations  had,  hov/ever,  been  abandoned  before 
any  attempt  could  be  made  to  ascertain  the  fact.  On  my  return 
a  tunnel,  nearly  100  feet  in  length,  was  opened  at  right  angles 
to  the  winged  bull,  but  without  coming  upon  any  other  remains 
but  a  pavement  of  square  limestone  slabs,  which  continued  as  far 
as  the  excavation  was  carried. 

"  On  uncovering  the  bull,  which  was  still  partly  buried  in  the 
rubbish,  it  was  found  that  adjoining  it  were  other  sculptures,  and 
that  it  formed  part  of  an  exterior  facade.  The  upper  half  of 
the  slab  had  been  destroyed;  upon  the  lower  was  part  of  the 
figure  of  the  Assyrian  Hercules  strangling  the  lion,  similar  to 
that  discovered  between  the  bulls  in  the  propylcca  of  Khorsabad, 
and  now  in  the  Louvre.  The  hinder  part  of  the  lion  was  still 
preserved.  The  legs,  feet,  and  draper}^  of  the  god  were  in  the 
boldest  relief,  and  designed  with  great  truth  and  vigor.  Beyond 
this  figure,  in  the  same  line,  was  a  second  bull.  Then  came  a 
wide  portal,  guarded  by  a  pair  of  winged  bulls  twenty  feet  long, 
and  probably,  when  entire,  more  than  twenty  feet  high,  and  two 


4.V 


NINEVEH    AND    BABYLON. 


o-io-antic  wino-ed  fissures  in  low  relief.  Flanking  them  were  two 
smaller  figures,  one  above  the  other.  Beyond  this  entrance  the 
facade  was  continued  by  a  group  similar  to  that  on  the  opposite 
side  by  a  smaller  entrance  into  the  palace  and  by  a  wall  of  sculp- 
tured slabs;  then  all  traces  of  building  and  sculpture  ceased  near 
the  eds:^  of  a  water-worn  ra\inc. 

'•  Thus,  part  of  the  facade  of  the  southeast  side  of  the  palace, 
lorming  apparently  the  grand  entrance  to  the  edifice,  had  been 
disco\-ered.  Ten  colossal  bulls,  with  six  human  figures  of 
ffii^^antic  proportions,  altogether  i8o  feet  in  length,  were  here 
o-rouped  together.  Although  the  bas-reliefs  to  the  right  of  the 
entrance  had  apparently  been  purposely  destroyed  with  a  sharp 
instrument,  enough  remained  to  allow  me  to  trace  their  subject. 
They  had  represented  the  conquest  of  a  district,  probably  part 
of  Bab}'lonia,  watered  b}'  a  broad  river  and  wooded  with  palms, 
spearmen  on  foot  in  combat  with  Assyrian  horsemen,  castles 
besieged,  long  lines  of  prisoners,  and  beasts  of  burden  carrying 
away  the  spoil.  Amongst  ^'arious  animals  brought  as  tribute  to 
the  conquerors  could  be  distinguished  a  lion  led  b}^  a  chain. 
There  were  no  remains  whatever  of  the  superstructure  which 
once  rose  above  the  colossi,  guarding  this  magnificent  entrance. 

"  Although  the  upper  part  of  the  winged  bulls  was  de- 
stroyed, fortunately  the  lower  part,  and,  consequently,  the 
inscriptions,  had  been  more  or  less  preserved.  To  this  fact  we 
owe  the  recovery  of  some  of  the  most  precious  records  of  the 
ancient  world. 

"  On  the  two  crreat  bulls  fbrmin^-the  center  entrance  was  one 
continuous  inscription,  injured  in  parts,  but  still  so  far  preserved 
as  to  be  legible  almost  throughout.  It  contained  152  lines.  On 
the  four  bulls  of  the  facade  were  two  inscriptions,  one  inscrip- 
tion being  carried  over  each  pair,  and  the  two  being  precisely  of 
the  same  import.  These  two  different  inscriptions  complete  the 
annals  of  six  years  of  the   reign   of   Sennacherib,  and   contain 


Sennacherib's  conquests.  431 

numerous  particulars  connected  with  the  rehgion  of  the  Assy- 
rians, their  gods,  their  temples,  and  the  erection  of  their  palaces. 
We  gather  from  them  that,  in  the  third  3ear  of  his  reign,  Sen- 
nacherib turned  his  arms  against  Merodach-Baladan,  king  of 
Babylon,  whom  he  entirely  defeated,  capturing  his  cities  and  a 
large  amount  of  spoil.  The  fourth  year  appears  to  have  been 
chiefly  taken  up  with  expeditions  against  the  inhabitants  of  the 
mountainous  regions  to  the  north  and  east  of  Assyria.  In  the 
fifth  he  crossed  the  Euphrates  into  Syria,  the  inhabitants  of 
which  country  are  called  by  their  familiar  Biblical  name  of  Hit- 
tites.  He  first  took  possession  of  Phoenicia,  which  was  aban- 
doned by  its  King  Luliya  (the  Eululaeus  of  the  Greeks).  He 
then  restored  to  his  throne  Padiva,  or  Padi,  kino'  of  Ekron,  and 
a  tributary  of  Assyria,  who  had  been  deposed  by  his  subjects 
and  given  over  to  Hezekiah,  king  of  Jerusalem.  The  king  of 
Ethiopia  and  Egypt  sent  a  powerful  army  to  the  assistance  of  the 
people  of  Ekron,  but  it  w^as  entirely  defeated  b}^  Sennacherib, 
who  afterwards  marched  against  Hezekiah,  probably  to  punish 
him  for  having  imprisoned  Padiya.  The  inscriptions  record 
this  expedition,  according  to  the  translation  of  the  late  Dr. 
Hincks,  in  the  following  term: — '  Hezekiah,  king  of  Judah,  who 
had  not  submitted  to  my  authority,  forty-six  of  his  principal 
cities,  and  fortresses  and  villages  depending  upon  them,  of  which 
I  took  no  account,  I  captured  and  carried  away  their  spoil.  I 
sh?d  7ip  (?)  himself  within  Jerusalem,  his  capital  city.  The 
fortified  towns,  and  the  rest  of  his  towns,  which  I  spoiled,  J 
severed  from  his  country,  and  gave  to  the  kings  of  Ascalon, 
Ekron,  and  Gaza,  so  as  to  make  his  country  small.  In  addition 
to  the  former  tribute  imposed  upon  their  countries,  I  added  a 
tribute,  the  nature  of  which  I  fixed.'  The  next  passage  is  some- 
what illegible,  but  the  substance  of  it  appears  to  be,  that  he 
took  from  Hezekiah  the  treasure  he  had  collected  in  Jerusa- 
lem, thirty  talents  of  gold   and   eight  hundred  talents  of  silver, 


432 


NINEVEH    AND    BABYLON. 


the  treasures  of  his  palace,  besides  his  sons  and  his  daughters, 
and  his  male  and  female  servants  or  slaves,  and  brought  them  ail 
to  Nineveh.  This  city  itself,  however,  he  does  not  pretend  to 
have  taken 

"  The  translation  of  this  passage  by  Sir  H.  Rawlinson  varies 
in  some  particulars  from  that  given  in  the  text.  It  is  as  follows: 
'  Because  Hezekiah,  king  of  Judah,  would  not  submit  to  my  yoke 
I  came  up  against  him,  and  by  force  of  arms,  and  by  the  might 
of  my  power  I  took  forty -six  of  his  fenced  cities;  and  of  the 
smaller  towns  which  were  scattered  about  I  took  and  plundered 
a  countless  number.  And  from  these  places  I  captured  and 
carried  off,  as  spoil,  200,150  people,  old  and  young,  male  and 
female,  together  with  horses  and  mares,  asses  and  camels,  oxen 
and  sheep,  a  countless  multitude.  And  Hezekiah  himself  I  shut 
up  in  Jerusalem,  his  capital  city,  like  a  bird  in  a  cage,  building 
towers  around  the  city  to  hem  him  in,  and  raising  banks  of  earth 
against  the  gates,  so  as  to  prevent  escape.  *  *  *  *  Then 
upon  this  Hezekiah  there  fell  the  fear  of  the  power  of  my  arms, 
and  he  sent  out  to  me  the  chiefs  and  the  elders  of  Jerusalem 
with  thirty  talents  of  gold  and  eight  hundred  talents  of  silver, 
and  divers  treasures,  a  rich  and  immense  booty.  *  *  *  * 
All  these  things  were  brought  to  me  at  Nineveh,  the  seat  of  my 
government,  Hezekiah  having  sent  them  by  way  of  tribute,  and 
as  a  token  of  his  submission  to  my  power.' 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  campaign  against  the 
dties  of  Palestine,  recorded  in  the  inscriptions  of  Sennacherib  in 
this  palace,  is  that  described  in  the  Old  Testament;  and  it  is  of 
great  interest,  therefore,  to  compare  the  two  accounts,  which 
will  be  found  to  agree  in  the  principal  incidents  mentioned  to 
a  very  remarkable  extent.  In  the  Second  Book  of  Kings  it 
is  said — '  Now,  in  the  fourteenth  year  of  king  Hezekiah  did 
Sennacherib,  king  of  Assyria,  come  up  against  all  the  fenced 
cities  of  Judah,  and  took  them.     And  Hezekiah,  king  of  Judah, 


HIGHLV-FINISHEI)    SCULPTURES.  433 

sent  to  the  king  of  Assyria,  to  Lachish,  saying,  I  have  offended; 
return  from  me;  that  which  thou  puttest  on  me  will  I  bear. 
And  the  king  of  Assyria  appointed  unto  Hezekiah  three  hun- 
dred talents  of  silver  and  thirty  talents  of  gold.  And  Hezekiah 
gave  him  all  the  silver  that  was  found  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord  and  in  the  treasures  of  the  king's  house.  At  that  time  did 
Hezekiah  cut  off  [the  gold  from]  the  doors  of  the  temple  of  the 
Lord,  and  \_fronf\  the  pillars  which  Hezekiah,  king  of  Judah, 
had  overlaid,  and  gave  it  to  the  king  of  Assyria,'  " 

When  Mr.  Layard  revisited  Kouyunjik  in  1849,  there  were 
no  vestiges  of  the  sculptured  walls  discovered  two  years  previ- 
ously. The  more  recent  trenches,  however,  dug  under  the  super- 
intendence of  Mr.  Ross,  were  still  open;  and  the  work:  len  em- 
ployed b}'  direction  of  the  British  Museum  had  run  tunnels 
along  the  walls  within  the  mound,  to  save  the  trouble  of  clearing 
away  the  soil,  which  had  accumulated  to  a  depth  of  thirty  feet 
above  the  ruins.  Under  the  direction  of  Layard,  the  excavations 
were  resumed  with  great  spirit,  and  before  the  lapse  of  many 
weeks,  several  chambers  had  been  entered,  and  numerous  bas- 
reliefs  discovered.  One  hall,  124  feet  by  90  feet,  appears,  says 
Layard,  "  to  have  formed  a  center,  around  which  the  principal 
chambers  in  this  part  of  the  palace  were  grouped.  Its  walls  had 
been  completely  covered  with  the  most  elaborate  and  highly-fin- 
ished sculptures.  Unfortunately,  all  the  bas-reliefs,  as  well  as  the 
gigantic  monsters  at  the  entrances,  had  suffered  more  or  less 
from  the  fire  which  had  destroyed  the  edifice;  but  enough  of 
them  still  remained  to  show  the  subject,  and  even  to  enable  him, 
in  many  places,  to  restore  it  entirely." 

Continuing  his  discoveries  in  the  mound,  Layard  "  opened 
no  less  than  seventy-one  halls  and  chambers,  also  passages,  whose 
walls,  almost  without  an  exception,  had  been  paneled  with  slabs 
of  sculptured  alabaster,  recording  the  wars,  the  triumphs,  and 
the  great  deeds  of  the  Assyrian   king.     By  a   rough   calculation, 


A^A  NINEVEH    AND    BABYLON. 

EXPLANATION   OF   CUT. 

1  Figures  from  the  portal  of  the  palace  of  Sennacherib,  having  the  forms  of 

2  [     winged  bulls  with  humau  heads,  bearing  crowns. 

3.  King  Sennacherib  on  his  throne.    A  sculpture  found  at  Nimroud,  dating  from 

llie  7th  century  Before  Christ. 

4.  A  king  on  the  hunt. 

5.  The  storming  of  a  fortress.     In  the  foreground  are  two  warriors  clad  in  armor. 

helmeted  and  heavily  armed  with  swords  and  spears. 

^  I  Vases  of  glass  and  alabaster  engraved  with  the  word  Sargon.    From  Nimroud. 

8.  Vessel  of  glazed  earthenware—,  found  at  Babel. 

9.  r.ronze  drinking  cup  ornamented  with  the  head  of  an  animal. 

10.  Limp  of  earthenware. 

11.  Stuff  woven  in  patterns  of  Assyrian  style.    From  relief  at  Nimroud. 

12.  Table  formed  of  fragments  of  sculptures  found  at  Nimroud. 
131 

14  V  Swords. 

l.VJ 

IG.    Bent  sword. 

17.  Double  edged  ax. 

18.  Spear. 

19.  Quiver  filled  with  arrows  aod  elaborately  sculptured 

20.  Bow. 

21  1 
I 

22.  |-  Daggers  and  knife  in  one  case. 

23.  J 

24.  Helmet. 

25.  Round  shield  such  as  was  borne  by  foot  soldiers. 

26.  Breastplate  of  a  kniglit  of  high  degree. 

27.  Parasol  found  at  Nimroud.    (Now  in  British  Museum.) 

28.  Ear-ring  of  gold. 

.29.^ 

30.  I 

V  Bracelets  of  gold. 

32.  J 

33.  )  ^.    , 

J-  Diadems. 

34.  ) 

35.  Wall  painting  representing  lions. 

about  9,88o  feet,  or  nearl}^  two  miles  of  bas-reliefs,  with  twenty- 
seven  portals  formed  by  colossal  winged  bulls  and  lion  sphinxes, 
were  uncovered  in  that  part  alone  of  the  building  explored  during 
his  researches.      The  cut  on  page    435  shows  some  of   them. 


DISCOVEliED  IN  THE  PALACE. 


435 


436 


NINEVEH    AND    BABYLON. 


The  greatest  length  of  the  excavations  was  about  720  feet,  the 
greatest  breadth  about  600  teet.  The  pavement  of  the  cham- 
bers was  from  twent\-  to  thirty-tive  feet  below  the  surface  of  the 
mound.  The  measurements  merel\'  include  that  part  of  the 
palace  actuall}^  excavated." 

Most  of  the  sculptures  discovered  in  this  hall  and  group  of 
chambers  have  been  deposited  in  the  British  Museum. 

For  the  more  recent  collection  of  sculptures  which  have  been 
brouofht  to  liiiht,  we  are  indebted  to  Mr.  Hormuzd  Rassam,  a 
native  of  Mosul,  and  a  friend  and  colleague  of  Layard;  and  to 
Mr.  William  Kcnnet  Loftus,  the  agent  of  the  Assyrian  excava- 
tion fund.  In  1852,  Mr.  Rassam  was  appointed  by  the  Trustees 
of  the  British  Museum  to  take  charge  of  the  excavations  at  Nin- 
eveh. For  more  than  a  3"ear  his  researches  were  nearl}'  fruitless, 
when,  at  length,  just  as  his  appointment  was  about  to  terminate, 
he  turned  again  to  a  previously-abandoned  trench  in  the  north  side 
of  the  mound,  and  was  almost  immediately  rewarded  by  the  dis- 
covcr}'  of  numerous  chambers  and  passages,  covered  with  a  vari- 
ety of  bas-reliefs  in  an  excellent  state  of  preservation,  having  suf- 
fered less  injury  from  fire  than  those  of  the  other  palaces.  In  one 
room  was  a  lion  luint,  in  a  continuous  series  of  twenty-three  slabs, 
with  but  one  inter\al.  The  other  slabs  represented  exteriors  of 
palaces,  gardens,  battles,  sieges,  processions,  etc.,  the  whole  form- 
ing the  decorations  of  what  must  have  been  a  splendid  palace. 

Subsequently,  in  1854,  at  the  instance  of  Sir  Henry  Rawlin- 
son.  Mr.  Loftus  and  his  coadjutor,  Mr.  Boutcher,  transferred  their 
operations  from  South  Babylonia  to  Nineveh.  At  first  Mr. 
Loftus'  excavations  were  unsuccessful,  but  about  the  beginning 
of  August  he  discovered  the  remains  of  a  building  on  a  level 
twenty  feet  lower  than  the  palace  that  Mr.  Rassam  was  exploring, 
and  which  proved  to  be  a  lower  terrace  of  the  same  building, 
even  more  highly  elaborated  and  in  better  preservation  than  those 
previously  discovered  in  the  ruins.      At  the  entrance  of  an  ascend- 


NORTH    PALACE,    KOUYUNJIK,  43^ 

ing  passage  there  was  also  found  a  ''mass  of  solid  masonry — appar- 
ently the  pier  of  an  arch — the  springing  of  which  is  formed  by 
projecting  horizontal  layers  of  limestone." 

Mr.  Loftus,  in  his  Report  of  the  9th  of  October,  observes: 
'■'■  The  excavations  carried  on  at  the  western  angle  of  the  North 
Palace,  Kouyiinjik,  continue  to  reveal  man\'  interesting  and  im- 
portant facts,  and  to  determine  several  points  which  were  previ- 
ously doubtful. 

"  I.  The  existence  of  an  outer  basement  wall  of  roughly 
cut  stone  blocks,  supporting  a  mud  wall,  upon  which  white  plaster 
still  remains,  and  from  which  painted  bricks  have  fallen.  2.  At 
the  corner  of  the  palace,  and  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the 
principal  chambers,  is  an  entrance  hall,  with  column  bases,  pre- 
cisely as  we  see  them  represented  in  the  sculptures.  3.  Above 
this  entrance  hall  and  its  adjoining  chambers,  there  was  formerly 
another  story,  the  first  upper  rooms  yet  discovered  in  Ass}Tia. 
This,  with  its  sculptured  slabs,  has  fallen  into  the  rooms  below. 
4.  The  various  sculptures  here  disinterred  are  the  works  of  four, 
if  not  five,  different  artists,  whose  styles  are  distinctly  visible.  It 
is  evident  that  this  portion  of  the  edifice  has  been  willfully  de- 
stroyed, the  woodwork  burned,  and  the  slabs  broken  to  pieces. 
The  faces  of  all  the  principal  figures  are  slightlv  injured  by  blows 
of  the  ax." 

This  highly  interesting  series  of  bas-reliefs,  which  has  now 
been  placed  in  a  lower  chamber  in  the  British  Museum,  conse- 
quently represents  the  siege  and  capture  of  Lachish,  as  described 
in  the  Second  Book  of  Kings,  and  in  the  inscriptions  on  the  human- 
headed  bulls.  Sennacherib  himself  is  seen  seated  on  his  throne, 
and  receiving  the  submission  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  city,  whilst 
he  had  sent  his  generals  to  demand  the  tribute  of  payment  from 
Hezekiah.  The  defenders  of  the  castle  walls  and  the  prisoners 
tortured  and  crouching  at  the  conqueror's  feet  are  Jews,  and  the 
sculptor  has  evidently  endeavored  to  indicate  the  peculiar  physi- 
ognomy of  the  race,  and  the  dress  of  the  people- 


438  NINEVEH  AND  BABYLON. 

The  value  of  this  discovery  can  scarcely  be  overrated. 
Whilst  we  have  thus  the  representations  of  an  event  recorded  in 
the  Old  Testament,  of  which  consequently  these  bas-reliefs  furnish 
a  most  interesting  and  important  illustration,  they  serve  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  to  test  the  accuracy  of  the  interpretation  of  the  cunei 
form  inscriptions,  and  to  remove  any  doubt  that  might  still  exist 
as  to  the  identification  of  the  King  who  built  the  palace  on  the 
mound  of  Kouyunjik  with  the  Sennacherib  of  Scripture.  Had 
these  bas-reliefs  been  the  only  remains  dug  up  Irom  the  ruins  of 
Nineveh,  the  labor  of  the  explorer  would  have  been  amply  re- 
warded, and  the  sum  expended  by  the  nation  on  the  excavations 
more  than  justitied.  The}'  furnish,  together  with  the  inscriptions 
which  they  illustrate,  and  which  are  also  now  deposited  in  the  na- 
tional collection,  the  m,ost  valuable  cotemporary  historical  record 
possessed  by  any  museum  in  the  world.  They  may  be  said  to  be 
the  actual  manuscript,  caused  to  be  written  or  carved  by  the  prin- 
cipal actor  in  the  events  which  it  relates.  Who  would  have  be- 
lieved it  probable  or  possible,  before  these  discoveries  were  made, 
that  beneath  the  heap  of  earth  and  rubbish  which  marked  the 
site  of  Nineveh,  there  would  be  found  the  history  of  the  wars 
between  Hezekiah  and  Sennacherib,  written  at  the  very  time 
when  they  took  place  by  Sennacherib  himself  and  confirming  even 
in  minute  details  the  Biblical  record.^  He  who  would  have  ven- 
tured to  predict  such  a  discovery  would  have  been  treated  as  a 
dreamer  or  an  impostor.  Had  it  been  known  that  such  a  monu- 
ment really  existed,  what  sum  would  ha\'e  been  considered  too 
great  for  the  precious  record .-' 

A  few  remarks  are  necessary  on  the  architecture  and  archi- 
tectural decorations,  external  and  internal  of  the  Assyrian  pal- 
aces. The  inscriptions  on  their  walls,  especially  on  those  of 
Kouyunjik  and  Khorsabad,  appear  to  contain  important  and  even 
minute  details  not  only  as  to  their  general  plan  and  mode  of 
i-onstruction,  but  even  as  to  the  materials  employed  for  their  differ 


TEMPLE    OF    SOLOMON. 


439 


ent  parts,  and  for  the  objects  of  sculpture  and  ornaments  placed 
in  them.  (Capt.  Jones  calculated  that  the  mound  of  Kouyunjik  con- 
tains 14,500,000  tons  of  earth,  and  that  its  construction  would 
have  taken  10,000  men  for  twelve  3'ears.)  This  fact  furnishes 
another  remarkable  analogy  between  the  records  of  the  Jewish 
and  Assyrian  kings.  To  the  history  of  their  monarchs  and  of 
their  nation,  the  Hebrew  chroniclers  have  added  a  full  account  of 
the  building  and  ornaments  of  the  temple  and  palaces  of  Solomon. 
In  both  cases,  from  the  use  of  technical  words,  we  can  scarcely 
hope  to  understand,  with  any  degree  of  certainty,  all  the  details. 
It  is  impossible  to  comprehend,  by  the  help  of  the  description 
alone,  the  plan  or  appearance  of  the  temple  of  Solomon.  This 
arises  not  only  from  our  being  unacquainted  with  the  exact  mean- 
ing of  various  Hebrew  architectural  terms,  but  also  from,  the  dif- 
ficulty experienced  even  in  ordinary  cases,  of  restoring  from  mere 
description  an  edifice  of  any  kind.  In  the  Assyrian  inscriptions 
we  labor,  of  course,  under  still  greater  disadvantages.  The  lan- 
guage in  which  they  were  written  is  as  yet  but  very  imperfectly 
known,  and  although  we  may  be  able  to  explain  with  some  con- 
fidence the  general  meaning  of  the  historical  paragraphs,  yet 
when  we  come  to  technical  words  relating  to  architecture,  even 
with  a  very  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  Assyrian  tongue,  we 
could  scarcely  hope  to  ascertain  their  precise  signification.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  materials,  and  the  general  plan  of  the  Assy- 
rian palaces  are  still  preserved,  whilst  of  the  great  edifices  of  the 
Jews,  not  a  fragment  of  masonr}^  nor  the  smallest  traces,  are  prob- 
ably left  to  guide  us.  But,  as  Mr.  Fergusson  has  shown,  the  archi- 
tecture of  the  one  people  may  be  illustrated  by  that  of  the  other. 
With  the  help  of  the  sacred  books,  and  of  the  ruins  of  the  palaces 
of  Nineveh,  together  with  those  of  cotemporary  and  after  remains, 
as  well  as  from  customs  still  existing  in  the  East,  we  may,  to  a 
certain  extent,  ascertain  the  pi  Incipal  architectural  features  of  the 
buildings  of  both  nations. 


440 


NINEVEH    AND    BABYLON. 


Before  suggesting  a  general  restoration  of  the  royal  edifices 
of  Nineveh,  we  shall  endeavor  to  point  out  the  analogies  which 
appear  to  exist  between  their  actual  remains  and  what  is  re- 
corded of  the  temple  and  palaces  of  Solomon.  In  the  first  place, 
as  Sennacherib  in  his  inscriptions  declares  himself  to  have  done, 
the  Jewish  king  sent  the  bearers  of  burdens  and  the  hewers  into 
the  mountains  to  bring  great  stones,  costly  stones,  and  hewed 
stones,  to  la\'  the  foundations,  which  were  probably  artificial 
platforms,  resembling  the  Assyrian  mounds,  though  constructed 
of  more  solid  materials.  We  have  the  remains  of  such  a  terrace 
or  stage  of  stone  masonry,  perhaps  built  by  King  Solomon  him- 
self, at  Baalbec.  The  enormous  size  of  some  of  the  hewn  stones 
in  that  structure,  and  of  those  still  remaining  in  the  quarries, 
some  of  which  are  more  than  sixty  feet  long,  has  excited  the 
wonder  of  modern  travelers.  The  dimensions  of  the  temple  of 
Jerusalem,  threescore  cubits  long,  twenty  broad,  and  thirty  high, 
were  much  smaller  than  those  of  the  great  edifices  explored  in 
Assyria.  Solomon's  own  palace,  however,  appears  to  have  been 
considerably  larger,  and  to  have  more  nearly  approached  in  its 
proportions  those  of  the  kings  of  Nineveh,  for  it  was  one  hun- 
dred cubits  long,  fift}'  broad  and  thirty  high.  "  The  porch 
before  the  temple,"  twenty  cubits  b}'  ten,  may  have  been  a 
propylaium.  such  as  was  discovered  at  Khorsabad  in  front  of  the 
palace.  The  chambers,  with  the  exception  of  the  oracle,  were 
exceedingly  small,  the  largest  being  only  seven  cubits  broad, 
"  for  without,  /;/  the  wall  of  the  house,  he  made  numerous  rests 
round  about,  that  the  beams  should  not  be  fastened  in  the  walls 
of  the  house."  The  words  in  italics  are  inserted  in  our  version 
to  make  good  the  sense,  and  may  consequently  not  convey  the 
exact  meaning,  which  may  be,  that  these  apartments  were  thus 
narrow  in  order  that  the  beams  might  be  supported  without  the 
use  of  pillars,  a  reason  already  suggested  for  the  narrowness  of 
the  greater  number  of  chambers  in  the  Assyrian  palaces.     These 


THE    ORACLE. 


441 


smaller  rooms  appear  to  have  been  built  round  a  large  central 
hall  called  the  oracle,  the  whole  arrangement  thus  correspondino- 
with  the  courts,  halls,  and  surrounding  rooms  at  Nimroud,  Khor- 
sabad,  and  Kouyunjik.  The  oracle  was  twenty  cubits  square, 
smaller  far  in  dimensions  than  the  Nineveh  halls;  but  it  was 
twenty  cubits  high — an  important  fact,  illustrative  of  Assyrian 
architecture,  for  as  the  building  itself  was  thirty  cubits  in  heio-ht 
the  oracle  must  not  only  have  been  much  loftier  than  the  adjoin- 
ing chambers,  but  must  have  had  an  upper  structure  of  ten 
cubits.  Within  it  were  the  two  cherubim  of  olive  wood  ten 
cubits  high,  with  wings  each  five  cubits  long — "and  he  carved 
all  the  house  around  with  carved  figures  of  cherubim  and  palm 
trees,  and  open  flowers,  within  and  without. '^  The  cherubim 
have  been  described  by  Biblical  commentators  as  mythic  figures, 
uniting  the  human  head  with  the  body  of  a  lion,  or  an  ox,  and 
the  wings  of  an  eagle.  If  for  the  palm  trees  we  substitute  the 
sacred  trees  of  the  Nineveh  sculptures,  and  for  the  open  flowers 
the  Assyrian  tulip-shaped  ornament — objects  most  probably  very 
nearly  resembling  each  other — we  find  that  the  oracle  of  the 
temple  was  almost  identical,  in  the  general  form  of  its  ornaments, 
with  some  of  the  chambers  of  Nimroud  and  Khorsabad.  In  the 
Assyrian  halls,  too,  the  winged  human-headed  bulls  were  on  the 
•side  of  the  wall,  and  their  wings,  like  those  of  the  cherubim, 
"  touched  one  another  in  the  midst  of  the  house."  The  dimen- 
sions of  these  figures  were  in  some  cases  nearly  the  same  in  the 
Jewish  and  Assyrian  temples,  namely,  fifteen  feet  square.  The 
doors  were  also  carved  with  cherubim  and  palm  trees,  and  open 
flowers;  and  thus,  with  the  other  parts  of  the  building,  corres- 
ponded with  those  of  the  Assyrian  palaces.  On  the  walls  at 
Nineveh  the  only  addition  appears  to  have  been  the  introduction 
of  the  human  form  and  the  image  of  the  king,  which  were  an 
abomination  to  the  Jews.  The  pomegranates  and  lilies  of  Solo- 
mon's temple  must   have   been   nearly   identical   with   the   usual 


AA2  NINEVEH  AND  BABYLON. 

Assyrian  ornament,  in  which,  and  particuhirly  at  Khorsabad,  the 
promegranate  frequently  takes  the  place  of  the  tulip  and  the  cune. 

But  the  description  given  by  Josephus  of  the  interior  of  one 
of  Solomon's  houses  still  more  completely  corresponds  with  and 
illustrates  the  chambers  in  the  palaces  of  Nineveh.  "  Solomon 
built  some  of  these  (houses)  with  stones  of  ten  cubits,  and  wain- 
scoted the  walls  with  other  stones  that  were  sawed,  and  were  of 
o-reat  value,  such  as  were  ducr  out  ol'  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  for 
ornaments  of  temples,"  etc.  The  arrangement  of  the  curious 
workmanship  of  these  stones  was  in  three  rows;  but  the  fourth 
was  pre-eminent  for  the  beauty  of  its  sculpture,  for  on  it  were 
represented  trees  and  all  sorts  of  plants,  with  the  shadows  caused 
by  their  branches  and  the  leaves  that  hung  down  from  them. 
These  trees  and  plants  covered  the  stone  that  was  beneath  them, 
and  their  leaves  were  wrought  so  wonderfully  thin  and  subtle 
that  they  appeared  almost  in  motion;  but  the  rest  of  the  wall, 
up  to  the  roof,  was  plastered  over,  and,  as  it  were,  wrought  over 
with  various  colors  and  pictures. 

To  complete  the  analogy  between  the  two  edifices,  it  would 
appear  that  Solomon  was  seven  years  building  his  temple,  and 
Sennacherib  about  the  same  time  in  erecting  his  great  palace  at 
Kouyunjik. 

The  ceiling,  roof,  and  beams  of  the  Jewish  temple  were  of 
cedar  wood.  The  discoveries  of  the  ruins  at  Nimroud  show 
that  the  same  precious  wood  was  used  in  Assyrian  edifices;  and 
the  king  ol  Nineveh,  as  we  learn  from  the  inscriptions,  sent  men, 
precisely  as  Solomon  had  done,  to  cut  it  in  Mount  Lebanon. 
Fir  was  also  employed  in  the  Jewish  buildings,  and  probabl}'  in 
those  of  Assyria. 

In  order  to  understand  the  proposed  restoration  of  the  palace 
at  Kouyunjik  from  the  existing  remains,  the  reader  must  refer  to 
the  cut,  on  page  427,  of  the  excavated  ruins.  It  will  be  re- 
membered that  the  building  does  not  face  the  cardinal  points  of 


DESCRIPTION    OF    THE    PALACE.  443 

the  compass.  We  will,  however,  assume,  for  convenience  sake 
that  it  stands  due  north  and  south.  To  the  south,  therefore,  it 
immediately  overlooked  the  Tigris;  and  on  that  side  rose  one  of 
the  principal  facades.  The  edifice  must  have  stood  on  the  very 
edge  of  the  platform,  the  foot  of  which  was  at  that  time  washed 
by  the  river,  which  had  live  massive  staircases  leading  to  the 
river.  Although  from  the  fact  of  there  having  been  a  grand 
entrance  to  the  palace  on  the  east  side,  it  is  highl}^  probable  that 
some  such  approach  once  existed  on  the  west  side,  yet  no  re- 
mains whatever  of  it  have  been  discovered.  The  northern 
facade,  like  the  southern,  was  formed  by  five  pairs  of  human- 
headed  bulls,  and  numerous  colossal  figures,  forming  three  dis- 
tinct gateways. 

The  principal  approach  to  the  palace  appears,  however,  to 
have  been  on  the  eastern  side,  where  the  great  bulls  bearing  the 
annals  of  Sennacherib  were  discovered.  In  the  cut  we  have 
been  able,  by  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Fergusson,  to  give  a  restora- 
tion of  this  magnificent  palace  and  entrances.  Inclined  ways,  or 
broad  flights  of  steps,  appear  to  have  led  up  tn  it  from  the  foot 
of  the  platform,  and  the  remains  of  them,  consisting  of  huge 
squared  stones,  are  still  in  the  ravines,  which  are  but  ancient 
ascents,  deepened  by  the  winter  rains  of  centuries.  From  this 
grand  entrance  direct  access  could  be  had  to  all  the  principal 
halls  and  chambers  in  the  palace;  that  on  the  western  face,  as 
appears  from  the  ruins,  only  opened  into  a  set  of  eight  rooms 

The  chambers  hitherto  explored  appear  to  have  been 
grouped  round  three  great  courts  or  halls.  It  must  be  borne 
in  mind,  however,  that  the  palace  extends  considerably  to  the 
northeast  of  the  grand  entrance,  and  that  there  may  have  been 
another  hall,  and  similar  dependent  chambers  in  that  part  of  the 
edifice.  Only  a  part  of  the  palace  has  been  hitherto  excavated, 
and  we  are  not,  consequently,  in  possession  of  a  perfect  ground- 
plan  of  .it. 


444 


NINEVKH    AND    HAHYLON. 


The  general  arrangement  of  the  chambers  at  Kouyunjik  is 
similar  to  that  at  Khorsabad,  though  the  extent  of  the  building 
is  very  much  greater.  The  Khorsabad  mound  falls  gradually  to 
the  level  of  the  plain,  and  there  are  the  remains  of  a  succession 
of  broad  terraces  or  stages.  Parts  of  the  palace,  such  as  the 
propyltea,  were  actually  beneath  the  platform,  and  stood  at  some 
distance  from  it  in  the  midst  of  the  walled  enclosure.  At  Kou- 
yunjik, however,  the  whole  of  the  royal  edifice,  with  its  de- 
pendent buildings,  appears  to  have  stood  on  the  summit  of  the 
artificial  mound,  whose  lofty  perpendicular  sides  could  only  have 
been  accessible  by  steps,  or  inclined  ways.  No  propylsea,  or 
other  edifices  connected  with  the  palace,  have  as  yet  been  dis- 
covered below  the  platform. 

The  inscriptions,  it  is  said,  refer  to  four  distinct  parts  of  the 
palace,  three  of  which,  inhabited  b}-  the  women,  ^eem  subse- 
quently to  have  been  reduced  to  one.  It  is  not  clear  whether 
they  were  all  on  the  ground-floor,  or  whether  they  formed  differ- 
ent stories.  Mr.  Fergusson,  in  his  ingenious  w^ork  on  the  restora- 
tion of  the  palaces  of  Nineveh,  in  which  he  has,  with  great 
learning  and  research,  fully  examined  the  subject  of  the  architec- 
ture of  the  Assyrians  and  ancient  Persians,  endeavors  to  divide 
the  Khorsabad  palace,  after  the  manner  of  modern  Mussulman 
houses,  into  the  Salamlik  or  apartments  of  the  men,  and  the 
Harem,  or  those  of  the  women.  The  division  he  suggests  must, 
of  course,  depeiid  upon  analogy  and  conjecture;  but  it  may,  we 
think,  be  accepted  as  highly  probable,  until  fuller  and  more 
accurate  translations  ot'  the  inscriptions  than  can  yet  be  made 
ma}'  furnish  us  with  some  positive  data  on  the  subject.  In  the 
ruins  of  Kouyunjik  there  is  nothing,  as  far  as  we  are  aware,  to 
mark  the  distinction  between  the  male  and  female  apartments. 
Of  a  temple  no  remains  have  as  yet  been  found  at  Kouyunjik, 
nor  is  there  any  high  conical  mound  as  at  Nimroud  and  Khor- 
sabad. 


446 


NINEVEH    AND    BABYLON. 


In  all  the  Assyrian  edifices  hitherto  explored  we  find  the 
same  o-eneral  plan.  On  the  four  sides  of  the  great  courts  or  halis 
are  two  or  three  narrow  parallel  chambers  opening  one  into  the 
other.  Most  of  them  have  doorways  at  each  end  leading  intr 
smaller  rooms,  which  have  no  other  outlet.  It  seems  highly  prol 
able  that  this  uniform  plan  was  adopted  with  reference  to  the  pe- 
culiar architectural  arrangements  required  by  the  building,  and 
we  ao-ree  with  Mr.  Fergusson  in  attributing  it  to  the  mode 
resorted  to  for  lighting  the  apartments. 

Early  excavators  expressed  a  belief  that  the  chambers 
received  light  from  the  top.  Although  this  may  have  been  the 
case  in  some  instances,  yet  recent  discoveries  now  prove  that  the 
Assyrian  palaces  had  more  than  one  story.  Such  being  the  case, 
it  is  evident  that  other  means  must  have  been  adopted  to  admit 
light  to  the  inner  rooms  on  the  ground-floor.  Mr.  Fergusson's 
suggestion,  that  the  upper  part  of  the  halls  and  principal  chambers 
was  formed  by  a  row  of  pillars  supporting  the  ceiling  and  admit- 
ing  a  free  circulation  of  light  and  air,  appears  to  us  to  meet,  to 
a  certain  extent,  the  difficulty.  It  has,  moreover,  been  borne  out 
by  subsequent  discoveries,  and  by  the  representation  of  a  large 
building,  apparently  a  palace,  on  one  side  of  the  bas-reliefs  from 
Kouyunjik. 

Although  the  larger  halls  may  have  been  lighted  in  this 
manner,  yet  the  inner  chambers  must  have  remained  in  almost 
entire  darkness.  And  it  is  not  imj5robable  that  such  was  the  case, 
to  judge  from  modern  Eastern  houses,  in  which  the  rooms  are 
purposely  kept  dark  to  mitigate  the  great  heat.  The  sculptures 
and  decorations  in  them  could  then  onl}^  be  properly  seen  by 
torchlight.  The  great  courts  were  probably  open  to  the  sky,  like 
the  courts  of  the  modern  houses  of  Mosul,  whose  walls  are  also 
adorned  with  sculptured  alabaster.  The  roofs  of  the  large  halls 
must  have  been  supported  by  pillars  of  wood  or  brick  work.  It 
may  be  conjectured  that  there  were  two  or  three  stories  of  cham- 


MODERN    HOUSES    OF    PERSIA. 


447 


Hers  opening  into  them,  either  by  columns  or  by  windows.  Such 
appears  to  have  been  the  case  in  Solomon's  temple;  for  Josephus 
tells  us  that  the  great  inner  sanctuary  was  surrounded  by  small 
rooms,  "  over  these  rooms  were  other  rooms,  and  others  above 
chem,  equal  both  in  their  measure  and  numbers,  and  these  reached 
to  a  height  equal  to  the  lovjer  part  of  the  house,  for  the  upper 
nad  no  buildings  about  it."  We  have  also  a  similar  arrangement 
of  chambers  in  the  modern  houses  of  Persia,  in  which  a  lofty  cen- 
tral hall,  called  the  Iwan,  of  the  entire  height  of  the  building, 
has  small  rooms  in  two  or  three  separate  stories  opening  by  win- 
dows into  it,  whilst  the  inner  chambers  have  no  windows  at  all. 
and  only  receive  light  through  the  door.  Sometimes  these  side 
chambers  open  into  a  center  court,  as  we  have  suggested  may 
Viave  been  the  case  in  the  Nineveh  palaces,  and  then  a  projecting 
roof  of  woodwork  protects  the  carved  and  painted  walls  from 
injury  by  the  weather.  Curtains  and  awnings  were  no  doubt 
suspended  above  the  windows  and  entrances  in  the  Assyrian  pal- 
aces to  ward  off  the  rays  of  the  sun. 

Although  the  remains  of  pillars  have  hitherto  been  discov- 
ered in  the  Assyrian  ruins,  we  now  think  it  highly  probable,  as 
suggested  by  Mr.  Fergusson,  that  they  were  used  to  support  the 
roof  The  modern  Yezidi  house,  in  the  Sinjar,  is  a  good  illustra- 
tion not  only  of  this  mode  of  supporting  the  ceiling,  but  of  the 
manner  in  which  light  may  have  been  admitted  into  the  side 
chambers.  It  is  curious,  however,  that  no  stone  pedestals,  upon 
which  wooden  columns  may  have  rested,  have  been  found  in  the 
ruins;  nor  have  marks  of  them  been  found  on  the  pavement.  We 
can  scarcely  account  for  the  entire  absence  of  all  such  traces. 
However,  unless  some  support  of  this  kind  were  resorted  to,  it  is 
impossible  that  the  larger  halls  at  Kouyunjik  could  have  been 
covered  in.  The  great  hall,  or  house,  as  it  is  rendered  in  the  Bible, 
of  the  forest  of  Lebanon  was  thirty  cubits  high,  upon  four  rows 
of  cedar  pillars  with  cedar  beams  upon  the  pillars.     The   Assy- 


448  NINEVEH    AND    BABYLON. 

rian  kings,  as  we  have  seen,  cut  wood  in  the  same  forests  as  King 
Solomon;  and  probably  used  it  for  the  same  purposes,  namely, 
for  pillars,  beams  and  ceilir  gs.  The  dimensions  of  this  hall,  100 
cubits  (about  150  feet)  by  ,0  cubits  (75  feet),  very  much  resem- 
ble those  of  the  center  hal  s  of  the  palaces  of  Nineveh.  ''  The 
porch  of  pillars"  was  fift\  cubits  in  length;  equal,  therefore,  to 
the  breadth  of  the  hall,  ot  which,  we  presume,  it  was  a  kind  of 
inclosed  space  at  the  upper  end,  whilst  "the  porch  for  the  throne 
where  he  might  judge,  c'  en  the  porch  of  judgment  *  *  *  * 
covered  with  cedar  wood  rom  one  side  of  the  floor  to  the  other," 
was  probably  a  raised  pla.-e  within  it,  corresponding  with  a  sim- 
ilar platlbrm  where  the  host  and  guests  of  honor  are  seated  in  a. 
modern  Eastern  house.  Supposing  the  three  parts  of  the  building 
to  have  been  arranged  as  we  have  suggested,  we  should  have  an. 
exact  counterpart  of  them  in  the  hall  of  audience  of  the  Persian 
palaces.  The  upper  part  of  the  magnificent  hall  in  which  we 
have  frequently  seen  the  governor  oi"  Isfahan,  was  divided  from; 
the  lower  part  by  columns,  and  his  throne  was  a  raised  place  of 
carved  headwork  adorned  with  rich  stuffs,  ivory,  and  other  pre- 
cious materials.  Suppliants  and  attendants  stood  outside  the  line 
of  pillars,  and  the  officers  of  the  court  within.  Such  also  may 
have  been  the  interior  arrangements  of  the  great  halls  in  the 
Assyrian  edifices. 

We  have  already  described  the  interior  decorations  of  the 
A.ssyrinn  palaces,  and  have  little  more  to  add  upon  the  subject. 
The  walls  of  Kouyunjik  were  more  elaborately  decorated  than 
,hose  of  Nimroud  and  Khorsabad.  Almost  every  chamber  ex- 
plored there,  and  they  amounted  to  about  seventy,  was  paneled 
vvi:h  alabaster  slabs  carved  with  numerous  figures  and  with  the 
•nir.iest  details.  Each  room  appears  to  have  been  dedicated  to 
somt.-  particular  event,  and  in  each,  apparently,  was  the  image  of 
the  k'og  himself  In  fact,  the  walls  recorded  in  sculpture  what 
the  ins:/  "ptions  did  in  writin<j^ — -the  ^reat  deeds  of  Sennacherib  in. 


CHAMBERS    IN    THE    PALACE. 


449 


peace  as  well  as  in  war.  It  will  be  remarked  that,  whilst  in  other 
Assyrian  edifices  the  king  is  frequently  represented  taking  an 
active  part  in  war,  slaying  his  enemies,  and  lighting  beneath  a 
besieged  city,  Sennacherib  is  never  represented  at  Kouyunjik 
otherwise  than  in  an  attitude  of  triumph,  in  his  chariot  or  on  his 
throne,  receiving  the  captives  and  the  spoil.  Nor  is  he  ever 
seen  torturing  his  prisoners,  or  putting  them  to  death  with  his 
own  hand. 

There  were  chambers,  however,  in  the  palace  of  Sennacherib, 
as  well  as  in  those  at  Nimroud  and  Khorsabad,  whose  walls  were 
simply  coated  with  plaster,  like  the  walls  of  Belshazzar's  palace 
at  Babylon.  Some  were  probably  richly  ornamented  in  color 
with  figures  of  inen  and  animals,  as  well  as  with  elegant  designs ; 
or  others  may  have  been  paneled  with  cedar  wainscoting,  as  the 
chambers  in  the  temple  and  palaces  of  Solomon,  and  in  the  royal 
edifices  of  Babylon.  Gilding,  too,  appears  to  have  been  exten- 
sively used  in  decoration,  and  some  of  the  great  sphinxes  may 
have  been  overlaid  with  gold,  like  the  cherubim  in  Solomon's  tem- 
ple. The  cut  on  page  445  gives  a  beautiful  representation  of 
the  interioi  of  the  palaces.  It  is  taken  from  the  halls  of  the 
palace  of  Sennacherib. 

At  Kouyunjik,  the  pavement  slabs  were  not  inscribed  as  at 
Nimroud;  but  those  between  the  winged  bulls,  at  some  of  the 
entrances,  were  carved  with  an  elaborate  and  very  elegant  pattern. 
The  doors  were  probably  of  wood,  gilt,  and  adorned  with  pre- 
cious materials,  like  the  gates  of  the  temple  of  Jerusalem,  and 
their  hinges  appear  to  have  turned  in  stone  sockets,  some  of 
which  were  found  in  the  ruins.  To  ward  off  the  glare  of  an 
Eastern  sun,  hangings  or  curtains,  of  gay  colors  and  of  rich  mate- 
rials, were  probably  suspended  to  the  pillars  supporting  the  ceil- 
ing, or  to  wooden  poles  raised  for  the  purpose,  as  in  the  palaces 
of  Babylon  and  Shushan. 

Layard's  researches  have  satisfied  him  that  a  very  consider- 
29 


450 


NINEVEH    AND    BABYLON. 


able  period  elapsed  between  the  earliest  and  latest  buildings  dis- 
covered among  the  mounds  of  Niniroud.  We  incline  to  this 
(Opinion,  but  dift^r  from  the  surmise  that  the  ruins  of  Nimroud 
and  the  site  of  Nineveh  itself  are  identical.  The  dimensions  of 
Nineveh,  as  given  by  Diodorus  Siculus,  were  150  stadia  on  the 
two  longest  sides  of  the  quadrangle,  and  90  on  the  opposite;  the 
square  being  480  stadia,  60  miles;  or,  according  to  some,  74 
miles.  Layard  thinks,  that  by  taking  the  four  great  mounds  of 
Nimroud,  Kouyunjik,  Khorsabad  and  Karamles,  as  the  corners 
of  a  squi^re,  the  four  sides  will  correspond  pretty  accurately  with 
the  60  miles  of  the  geographer,  and  the  three  da3"s'  journey  of 
the  prophet  Jonah. 

The  parallelogram,  or  line  of  boundary,  being  thus  com- 
pleted, we  have  now  to  ascertain  how  far  it  accords  with  the 
localities  of  the  researches;  and  we  find  that  it  not  only  compre- 
hends the  principal  mounds  which  have  already  been  examined, 
but  many  others,  in  which  ruins  are  either  actuall}',  or  almost  cer- 
tainly, known  to  exist.  Another  important  object  of  remark 
connected  with  this  subject,  is  the  thickness  of  the  wall  surround- 
ing the  palace  of  Khorsabad,  which  Botta  states  to  be  fifteen 
metres,  /,  e.,  forty-eight  feet,  nine  inches,  a  very  close  approxima- 
tion to  the  width  of  the  wall  of  the  city  itself,  which  was  "so 
broad  as  that  three  chariots  might  be  driven  upon  it  abreast.*' 
This  is  about  half  the  thickness  of  the  wall  of  Babylon,  upon 
which  "six  chariots  could  be  dris'en  together,"  and  which  Hero- 
dotus tells  were  eighty-seven  feet  broad,  or  nearly  double  that  of 
Khorsabad.  The  extraordinary  dimensions  of  the  walls  of  cities 
is  supported  by  these  remains  at  Khorsabad.  The  Median  wall, 
still  existing,  in  part  nearly  entire,  and  which  crosses  obliquely  the 
plain  of  Mesopotamia  from  the  Tigris  to  the  banks  of  the 
Euphrates,  a  distance  of  forty  miles,  is  another  example.  The 
great  wall  of  Cliina,  also,  of  like  antiquity,  we  are  told,  "traverses 
high   mountains,   deep  valleys,  and,  by   means    of  arches,   wide 


THE    WALLS. 


451 


rivers,  extending  from  the  province  of  Shen  Si  to  Wanghay,  or 
the  Yellow  Sea,  a  distance  of  1,500  miles.  In  some  places,  to 
protect  exposed  passages,  it  is  double  and  treble.  The  foundation 
and  corner  stones  are  of  granite,  but  the  principal  part  is  of  blue 
bricks,  cemented  with  pure  white  mortar.  At  distances  of  about 
200  paces  are  distributed  square  towers  or  strong  bulwarks." 
In  less  ancient  times,  the  Roman  walls  in  our  own  country  supply 
additional  proof  of  the  universality  of  this  mode  of  enclosing  a 
district  or  guarding  a  boundary  before  society  was  established  on 
a  firm  basis.  It  may  be  objected  against  the  foregoing  specula- 
tions on  the  boundary  of  Nineveh,  that  the  river  runs  within  the 
walls  instead  of  on  the  outside.  In  reply,  we  submit  that  when  the 
walls  were  destroyed,  as  described  by  the  historian,  the  flooded 
riv^er  would  force  for  itself  another  channel,  which  in  process  of 
time  would  become  more  and  more  devious  from  the  obstructions 
offered  by  the  accumulated  ruins,  until  it  eventually  took  the 
channel  in  which  it  now  flows. 

Babylon  was  the  most  beautiful  and  the  richest  city  in  the 
world.  Even  to  our  age,  it  stands  as  a  marvel.  It  was  built 
about  3,000  years  ago,  but  did  not  reach  the  summit  of  its  mag- 
nificence until  about  570  years  Before  Christ,  when  Nebuchad- 
nezzar lavished  almost  an  endless  amount  of  wealth  upon  it. 

Its  magnitude  was  480  furlongs,  or  sixty  miles,  in  compass. 
It  was  built  in  an  exact  square  of  fifteen  miles  on  each  side,  and 
was  surrounded  by  a  brick  wall  eighty-seven  feet  thick  and 
350  feet  high,  on  which  were  250  towers,  or,  according  to  some 
writers,  316.  The  top  of  the  wall  was  wide  enough  to  allow  six 
chariots  to  driv^e  abreast.  The  materials  for  building  the  wall 
were  dug  from  a  vast  ditch  or  moat,  which  was  also  walled  up 
with  brickwork  and  then  filled  with  water  from  the  River 
Euphrates.  This  moat  was  just  outside  of  the  walls,  and  sur- 
rounded the  city  as  another  strong  defence. 

The  city  had  100  brass  gates,  one  at  the  end  of  each  of  its 


452 


NINEVEH    AND    BABYLON. 


fifty  streets.  The  streets  were  150  feet  wide  and  ran  at  right 
angles  through  the  city,  thus  forming  676  great  squares.  Her- 
odotus sa3^s  besides  this  there  was  yet  another  wall  which  ran 
around  within,  not  much  inferior  to  the  other,  yet  narrower,  and 
the  city  was  divided  into  two  equal  parts  by  the  River  Euphrates, 
over  which  was  a  bridge,  and  at  each  end  of  the  bridge  was  a 
palace.  These  palaces  had  communication  with  each  other  by  a 
subterranean  passage. 

To  prevent  the  city  from  suffering  from  an  overflow  of  the 
river  during  the  summer  months,  immense  embankments  were 
raised  on  either  side,  with  canals  to  turn  the  flood  waters  of  the 
Tigris.  On  the  western  side  of  the  city  an  artificial  lake  was 
excavated  forty  miles  square,  or  160  miles  in  circumference,  and 
dug  out,  according  to  Megasthenes,  seventy-five  feet  deep,  into 
which  the  river  was  turned  when  any  repairs  were  to  be  made, 
or  for  a  surplus  of  water,  in  case  the  river  should  be  cut  off 
from  them. 

Near  to  the  old  palace  stood  the  Tower  of  Babel.  This 
prodigious  pile  consisted  of  eight  towers,  each  seventy-five  feet 
high,  rising  one  upon  another,  with  an  outside  winding  stair- 
case to  its  summit,  which,  with  its  chapel  on  the  top,  reached  a 
height  of  660  feet.  On  this  summit  is  where  the  chapel  of  Belus 
was  erected,  which  contained  probably  the  most  expensive  furni- 
ture of  any  in  the  world.  One  golden  image  forty  feet  high  was 
valued  at  $17,500,000,  and  the  whole  of  the  sacred  utensils  were 
reckoned  to  be  worth  $200,000,000.  There  are  still  other  won- 
derful things  mentioned.  One,  the  subterraneous  banqueting 
rooms,  which  were  made  under  the  River  Euphrates  and  were 
constructed  entirely  of  brass ;  and  then,  as  one  of  the  seven  won- 
ders of  the  world,  were  the  famous  hanging  gardens;  they  were 
400  feet  square  and  were  raised  350  feet  high,  one  terrace  above 
the  other,  and  were  ascended  by  a  staircase  ten  feet  wide.  The 
terraces  were   supported   by  large  vaultings   resting  upon  curb- 


GRANDEUR  OF  BABYLON.  453 

shaped  pillars  and  were  hollow  and  filled  with  earth,  to  allow 
trees  of  the  largest  size  to  be  planted,  the  whole  being  con- 
structed of  baked  bricks  and  asphalt.  The  entire  structure  was 
strengthened  and  bound  together  by  a  wall  twenty-two  feet  in 
thickness.  The  level  of  the  terrace  was  covered  with  larg-e 
stones,  over  which  was  a  bed  of  rushes,  then  a  thick  layer  of 
asphalt,  next  two  courses  of  bricks  likewise  cemented  with  as- 
phalt, and  finally  plates  of  lead  to  prevent  leakage,  the  earth 
being  heaped  on  the  platform  and  terrace  and  large  trees 
planted.  The  whole  had  the  appearance  from  a  distance  of  woods 
overhanging  mountains. 

The  great  work  is  aflSrmed  to  have  been  effected  by  Neb- 
uchadnezzar to  gratify  his  wife,  Anytis,  daughter  of  Astyages, 
who  retained  strong  predilection  for  the  hills  and  groves  which 
abounded  in  her  native  Media. 

Babylon  flourished  for  nearly  200  years  in  this  scale  of 
grandeur,  during  which  idolatry,  pride,  cruelty,  and  every  abom- 
ination prevailed  among  all  ranks  of  the  people,  when  God,  by 
His  prophet,  pronounced  its  utter  ruin,  which  was  accord- 
ingly accomplished,  commencing  with  Cyrus  taking  the  city, 
after  a  siege  of  two  years,  in  the  year  588  Before  Christ,  to 
emancipate  the  Jews,  as  foretold  by  the  prophets.  By  successive 
overthrows  this  once  "  Glory  of  the  Chaldees'  Excellency,"  this 
"  Lady  of  Kingdoms,"  has  become  a  "  desolation  "  without  an 
inhabitant,  and  its  temple  a  vast  heap  of  rubbish. 

The  ancient  Tower  of  Babel  is  now  a  mound  of  oblong 
form,  the  total  circumference  of  which  is  2,286  feet.  At  the  east- 
ern side  it  is  cloven  by  a  deep  furrow  and  is  not  more  than  fifty 
or  sixty  feet  high,  but  on  the  western  side  it  rises  in  a  conical 
figure  to  the  elevation  of  198  feet,  and  on  its  summit  is  a  solid 
pile  of  brick  thirty-seven  feet  in  height  and  twenty-eight  in 
breadth,  diminishing  in  thickness  to  the  top,  which  is  broken 
and  irregular  and  rent  by  large  fissures  extending  through  a 
third  of  its  height;  it  is  perforated  with  small  holes. 


454 


NINEVEH    AND    BABYLON. 


The  fire-burnt  bricks  of  which  it  is  built  have  inscriptions 
on  them,  and  so  excellent  is  the  cement,  which  appears  to  be 
lime  mortar,  that  it  is  nearly  impossible  to  extract  one  whole. 
The  other  parts  of  the  summit  of  this  hill  are  occupied  by  im- 
mense fragments  of  brickwork  of  no  determinate  figure,  tumbled 
tO"-ether  and  converted  into  solid  vitrified  masses,  as  if  they  had 
undergone  the  action  of  the  fiercest  fire,  or  had  been  blown  up 
by  gunpowder,  the  layers  of  brick  being  perfectly  discernible. 
These  ruins  surely  proclaim  the  divinity  of  the  Scriptures.  Lay- 
ard  says  the  discoveries  amongst  the  ruins  of  ancient  Babylon 
were  far  less  numerous  and  important  than  could  have  been  antic- 
ipated. No  sculptures  or  inscribed  slabs,  the  paneling  of  the 
walls  of  palaces,  appear  to  exist  beneath  them,  as  in  those  of 
Nineveh.  Scarcely  a  detached  figure  in  stone,  or  a  solitary  tab- 
let, has  been  dug  out  of  the  vast  heaps  of  rubbish.  "  Babylon  is 
fallen,  is  fallen;  and  all  the  graven  images  of  her  gods  he  hath 
broken  unto  the  ground."  (Isaiah  xxi.  9.) 

The  complete  absence  of  such  remains  is  to  be  explained  by 
the  nature  of  the  materials  used  in  the  erection  of  even  the  most 
costly  edifices  of  Bab3'lon.  In  the  vicinity  there  were  no  quar- 
ries of  alabaster,  or  of  limestone,  such  as  existed  near  Nineveh. 
The  city  was  built  in  the  midst  of  an  alluvial  country,  far  re- 
moved from  the  hills.  The  deposits  of  the  mighty  rivers  which 
have  gradually  formed  the  Mesopotamian  plains  consist  of  a  rich 
clay.  Consequently  stone  for  building  purposes  could  only  be 
obtained  from  a  distance.  The  black  basalt,  a  favorite  material 
amongst  the  Babylonians  for  carving  detached  figures,  and 
for  architectural  ornaments,  as  appears  from  fragments  found 
amongst  the  ruins,  came  from  the  Kurdish  Mountains,  or  from 
the  north  of  Mesopotamia. 

The  Babylonians  were  content  to  avail  themselves  of  the 
building  materials  which  they  found  on  the  spot.  With  the  tena- 
cious mud  of  their  alluvial   plains,   mixed  with  chopped  straw, 


BUILDING    MATERIALS. 


455 


they  made  bricks,  whilst  bitumen  and  other  substances  collected 
from  the  immediate  neighborhood  furnished  them  with  an  excel- 
lent cement.  A  knowledoje  of  the  art  of  manufacturinsr  srlaze, 
and  colors,  enabled  them  to  cover  their  bricks  with  a  rich 
enamel,  thereby  rendering  them  equally  ornamental  for  the 
exterior  and  interior  of  their  edifices.  The  walls  of  their 
palaces  and  temples  were  also  coated,  as  we  learn  from  several 
passages  in  the  Bible,  with  mortar  and  plaster,  which,  judging 
from  their  cement,  must  have  been  of  very  fine  quality.  The 
fingers  of  a  man's  hand  wrote  the  words  of  condemnation  of 
the  Babylonian  empire  "  upon  the  plaster  of  the  king's  palace." 
Upon  those  walls  were  painted  historical  and  religious  subjects, 
and  various  ornaments,  and,  according  to  Diodorus  Siculus,  the 
bricks  were  enameled  with  the  figures  of  men  and  animals. 
Imao^es  of  stone  were  no  doubt  introduced  into  the  buildincrs. 
We  learn  from  the  Bible  that  figures  of  the  gods  in  this  mate- 
rial, as  well  as  in  metal,  were  kept  in  the  Babylonian  temples. 
But  such  sculptures  were  not  common,  otherwise  more  remains 
of  them  must  have  been  discovered  in  the  ruins.  The  great 
inscription  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  engraved  on  a  black  stone,  and 
divided  into  ten  columns,  in  the  museum  formed  by  the  East 
India  Company,  appears  to  contain  some  interesting  details  as  to 
the  mode  of  construction  and  architecture  of  the  Babylonian 
palaces  and  temples. 

It  may  be  conjectured  that,  in  their  general  plan,  the  Baby- 
lonian palaces  and  temples  resembled  those  of  Assyria.  We 
know  that  the  arts,  the  religion,  the  customs,  and  the  laws  of  the 
two  kindred  people  were  nearly  identical.  They  spoke,  also,  the 
same  language,  and  used,  very  nearly,  the  same  written  charac- 
ters. One  appears  to  have  borrowed  from  the  other;  and,  with- 
out attempting  to  decide  the  question  of  the  priority  of  the 
independent  existence  as  a  nation  and  of  the  civilization  of  either 
people,  it  can  be  admitted  that  they  had  a  certain  extent  of 


456 


NINEVEH    AND    BABYLON. 


common  origin,  and  that  they  maintained  for  many  centuries  an 
intimate  connection.  We  find  no  remains  of  columns  at  Baby- 
lon, as  none  have  been  found  at  Nineveh.  If  such  architectural 
ornaments  were  used,  they  must  have  been  either  of  wood  or  of 
brick. 

Although  the  building  materials  used  in  the  great  edifices 
of  Babylon  may  seem  extremely  mean  when  compared  with 
those  employed  in  the  stupendous  palace-temples  of  Egypt,  and 
even  in  the  less  massive  edifices  of  Assyria,  yet  the  Babylonians 
appear  to  have  raised,  with  them  alone,  structures  which  excited 
the  wonder  and  admiration  of  the  most  famous  travelers  of  an- 
tiquity. The  profuse  use  of  color,  and  the  taste  displayed  in  its 
combination,  and  in  the  ornamental  designs,  together  with  the 
solidity  and  vastness  of  the  immense  structure  upon  which  the 
buildings  proudly  stood,  may  have  chiefiy  contributed  to  produce 
this  effect  upon  the  minds  of  strangers.  The  palaces  and  tem- 
ples, like  those  of  Nineveh,  were  erected  upon  lofty  platforms  of 
brickwork.  The  bricks,  as  in  Assyria,  were  either  simply  baked 
in  the  sun,  or  were  burned  in  the  kiln.  The  latter  are  of  more 
than  one  shape  and  quality.  Some  are  square,  others  are  oblong. 
Those  from  the  Birs  Nimroud  are  generally  of  a  dark  red  color, 
while  those  from  the  Mujelibe  are  mostly  of  a  light  yellow.  A 
large  number  of  them  have  inscriptions  in  a  complex  cuneiform 
character  peculiar  to  Babylon.  These  superscriptions  have  been 
impressed  upon  them  by  a  stamp,  on  which  ihe  whole  inscription 
was  cut  in  relief  Each  character  was  not  made  singly,  as  on 
the  Assyrian  bricks,  and  this  is  the  distinction  between  them. 
Almost  all  the  bricks  brought  from  the  ruins  of  Babylon  bear 
the  same  inscription,  with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  unimport- 
ant words,  and  record  the  building  of  the  city  by  Nebuchadnez- 
zar, the  son  of  Nabubaluchun.  We  owe  the  interpretation  of 
these  names  to  the  late  Dr.  Ilincks. 

It  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  add  a  few  remarks  upon  the 


HISTORY    OF    BABYLON.  457 

history  of  Babylon.  The  time  of  the  foundation  of  this  cele- 
brated city  is  still  a  question  which  does  not  admit  of  a  satisfac- 
tory determination,  and  into  which  we  will  not  enter.  Some 
believe  it  to  have  taken  place  at  a  comparatively  recent  date; 
but  if,  as  the  Egyptian  scholars  assert,  the  name  of  Babylon  is 
found  on  monuments  of  the  eighteenth  Egyptian  dynasty,  we 
;have  positive  evidence  ot'  its  existence  at  least  in  the  fifteenth 
century  Before  Christ.  After  the  rise  of  the  Assyrian  empire, 
it  appears  to  have  been  sometimes  under  the  direct  rule  of  the 
kings  of  Nineveh,  and  at  other  times  to  have  been  governed  by 
its  own  independent  chiefs.  Expeditions  against  Babylon  arc 
recorded  in  the  earliest  inscriptions  yet  discovered  in  Assyria; 
.and  as  it  has  been  seen,  even  in  the  time  of  Sennacherib  and  his 
hnmediate  predecessors,  large  armies  were  still  frequently  sent 
against  its  rebellious  inhabitants.  The  Babylonian  kingdom 
was,  however,  almost  absorbed  in  that  of  Assyria,  the  dominant 
power  of  the  East.  When  this  great  empire  began  to  decline 
Babylon  rose  for  the  last  time.  Media  and  Persia  were  equally 
ready  to  throw  off  the  Assyrian  yoke,  and  at  length  the  allied 
armies  of  Cyaxares  and  the  father  of  Nebuchadnezzar  captured 
and  destroyed  the  capital  of  the  Eastern  world. 

Babylon  now  rapidly  succeeded  to  that  proud  position  so 
long  held  by  Nineveh.  Under  Nebuchadnezzar  she  acquired 
the  power  forfeited  by  her  rival.  The  bounds  of  the  city  were 
extended;  buildings  of  extraordinary  size  and  magnificence  were 
erected;  her  victorious  armies  conquered  Syria  and  Palestine,  and 
penetrated  into  Egypt.  Her  commerce,  too,  had  now  spread  far 
and  wide,  from  the  east  to  the  west,  and  she  became  "a  land  of 
traffic  and  a  city  of  merchants." 

But  her  greatness  as  an  independent  nation  was  short-lived. 
The  neighboring  kingdoms  of  Media  and  Persia,  united  under 
one  monarch,  had  profited  no  less  than  Babylon,  by  the  ruin  of 
the  Assyrian  empire,  and  were  ready  to  dispute  with  her  the  dO' 


4.58  NINEVEH    AND    RABYLON. 

minion  of  Asia.  Scarcely  hall'  a  century  had  elapsed  from  the 
tall  of  Nineveh,  when  "Belshazzar,  the  king  of  the  Chaldaeans, 
was  slain,  and  Darius,  the  Median,  took  the  kingdom/'  From 
that  time  Babylonia  sank  into  a  mere  province  of  Persia.  It  still, 
however,  retained  much  of  its  former  power  and  trade,  and  as  we 
learn  from  the  inscriptions  of  Bisutun,  as  well  as  from  ancient 
authors,  struggled  more  than  once  to  regain  its  ancient  independ- 
ence. 

After  the  defeat  of  Darius  and  the  overthrow  of  the  Persian 
supremacy,  Babylon  opened  its  gates  to  Alexander,  who  deemed 
the  city  not  unworthy  to  become  the  capital  of  his  mighty  em- 
pire. On  his  return  from  India,  he  wished  to  rebuild  the  temple 
of  Belus,  which  had  fallen  into  ruins,  and  in  that  great  work  he 
had  intended  to  employ  his  army,  now  no  longer  needed  for  war. 
The  priests,  however,  who  had  appropriated  the  revenues  of  this 
sacred  shrine,  and  feared  lest  they  would  have  again  to  apply  them 
to  their  rightful  purposes,  appear  to  have  prevented  him  from  car- 
rying out  his  design. 

This  last  blow  to  the  prosperity  and  even  existence  of  Baby- 
lon was  given  by  Seleucus  when  he  laid  the  foundation  of  his  new 
capital  on  the  banks  o^'  ^he  Tigris  (B.  C.  322).  Already  Pa- 
troclcs,  his  general,  had  compelled  a  large  number  of  the  inhabi- 
tants to  abandon  their  homes,  and  to  take  refuge  in  the  desert, 
and  in  the  province  of  Susiana.  The  city,  exhausted  by  the 
neighborhood  of  Seleucia,  returned  to  its  ancient  solitude.  Ac- 
cording to  some  authors,  neither  the  walls  nor  the  temple  of  Belus 
existed  an}'  longer,  and  only  a  few  of  the  Chaldaeans  continued  to 
dwell  around  the  ruins  of  their  sacred  edifices. 

Still,  however,  a  part  of  the  population  appear  to  have  re- 
turned to  their  former  seats,  for,  in  the  early  part  of  the  second 
century  of  the  Christian  era,  we  find  the  Parthian  king,  Evem- 
erus,  sending  numerous  families  from  Babylon  into  Media  to  be 
sold  as  slaves,  and  burning  many  great  and  beautiful  edifices  still 
standing  in  the  citv. 


HISTORY    OF    BABYLON. 


459 


In  the  time  of  Augustus,  the  cit}^  is  said  to  have  reen  en- 
tirely deserted,  except  by  a  few  Jews  who  still  lingered  amongst 
the  ruins.  St.  Cyril,  of  Alexandria,  declares,  that  in  his  day, 
about  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century,  in  consequence  of  the 
choking  up  of  the  great  canals  derived  from  the  Euphrates,  Bab- 
ylon had  become  a  vast  marsh;  and  fifty  years  later  the  river  is 
described  as  having  changed  its  course,  leaving  only  a  small  chan- 
nel to  mark  its  ancient  bed.  Then  were  verified  the  prophecies 
of  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah,  that  the  mighty  Babylon  should  be  but 
"pools  of  water,"  that  the  sea  should  come  upon  her,  and  that 
she  should  be  covered  with  the  multitude  of  the  waves  thereof. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  century,  at  the  time  of  the 
Arab  invasion,  the  ancient  cities  of  Babylonia  were  "  a  desola- 
tion, a  dry  land  and  a  wilderness."  Amidst  the  heaps  that 
alone  marked  the  site  of  Babylon  there  rose  the  small  town  of 
Hillah. 

Long  before  Babylon  had  overcome  her  rival  Nineveh,  she 
was  famous  for  the  extent  and  importance  of  her  commerce.  No 
position  could  have  been  more  favorable  than  hers  for  carrying 
on  a  trade  with  all  the  regions  of  the  known  world.  She  stood 
upon  a  navigable  stream  that  brought  to  her  quays  the  produce  of 
the  temperate  highlands  of  Armenia,  approached  in  one  part  of  its 
course  within  almost  one  hundred  miles  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea, 
and  emptied  its  waters  into  a  gulf  of  the  Indian  Ocean.  Parallel 
with  this  great  river  was  one  scared}^  inferior  in  size  and  import- 
ance. The  Tigris,  too,  came  from  the  Armenian  hills,  flowed 
through  the  fertile  districts  of  Assyria,  and  carried  the  varied 
produce  to  the  Babylonian  cities.  Moderate  skill  and  enterprise 
could  scarcely  fail  to  make  Babylon,  not  only  the  emporium  of 
the  Eastern  world,  but  the  main  link  of  commercial  intercourse 
between  the  East  and  the  West. 

The  inhabitants  did  not  neglect  the  advantages  bestowed 
upon  them  by  nature.  A  s}' stem  of  navigable  canals  that  may  ex* 


460 


NINEVEH    AND    BABYLON. 


cite  the  admiration  of  even  the  modern  engineer,  connected 
together  the  Euphrates  and  Tigris,  those  great  arteries  of  her 
commerce. 

The  vast  trade  that  rendered  Babylon  the  gathering-place 
of  men  from  all  parts  of  the  known  world,  and  supplied  her  with 
luxuries  from  the  remotest  clime,  had  the  effect  of  corrupting  the 
manners  of  her  people,  and  producing  that  general  profligacy  and 
those  effiminate  customs  which  mainly  contributed  to  her  fall. 
The  description  given  by  Herodotus  of  the  state  of  the  popula- 
tion of  the  city  when  under  the  dominion  of  the  Persian  kings,  is 
sufficient  to  explain  the  cause  of  her  speedy  decay  and  ultimate 
ruin.  The  account  of  the  Greek  historian  fully  tallies  with  the 
denunciation  of  the  Hebrew  prophets  against  the  sin  and  wicked- 
ness of  Babylon.  Her  inhabitants  had  gradually  lost  their  war- 
like character.  When  the  Persian  broke  into  their  city  they 
were  reveling  in  debauchery  and  lust;  and  when  the  Macedonian 
conqueror  appeared  at  their  gates,  they  received  with  indifference 
the  yoke  of  a  new  master. 

Such  were  the  causes  of  the  fall  of  Babylon.  Her  career 
-was  equally  short  and  splendid;  and  although  she  has  thus  per- 
ished from  the  face  of  the  earth,  her  ruins  are  still  classic,  indeed 
sacred,  ground.  The  traveler  visits,  with  no  common  emotion, 
those  shapeless  heaps,  the  scene  of  so  many  great  and  solemn 
events.  In  this  plain,  according  to  tradition,  the  primitive  fami- 
lies of  our  race  first  found  a  resting  place.  Here  Nebuchadnez- 
zar boasted  of  the  glories  of  his  city,  and  was  punished  for  his 
pride.  To  these  deserted  halls  were  brought  the  captives  of  Ju- 
daea, In  them  Daniel,  undazzled  by  the  glories  around  him,  re- 
mained steadfast  to  his  faith,  rose  to  be  a  governor  amongst  his 
rulers,  and  prophesied  the  downfall  of  the  kingdom.  There 
was  held  Belshazzar's  feast,  and  was  seen  the  writing  on  the  wall. 
Between  those  crumbling  mounds  C3'rus  entered  the  neglected 
gates.  Those  massive  ruins  cover  the  spot  where  Alexander 
died. 


The  city  of  Thebes  is,  perhaps,  the  most  astonishing  work 
executed  by  the  hand  of  man.  Its  ruins  are  the  most  unequiv- 
ocal proof  of  the  ancient  civiHzation  of  Egypt,  and  of  the  high 
degree  of  power  which  the  Egyptians  had  reached  by  the  extent 
of  their  knowledge.  Its  origin  is  lost  in  the  obscurity  of  time,  it 
being  coeval  with  the  nation  which  first  took  possession  of  Egypt; 
and  it  is  sufficient  to  give  a  proper  idea  of  its  antiquity  to  say 
that  the  building  of  Memphis  was  the  first  attempt  made  to 
rival  the  prosperity  of  Thebes. 

Its  extent  was  immense;  it  filled  the  whole  valley  which  was 
permeated  by  the  Nile.  D'Anville  and  Denon  state  its  circum- 
ference to  have  been  thirty-six  miles;  its  diameter  not  less  than 
ten  and  a  half.  The  number  of  its  inhabitants  was  in  proportion 
to  these  vast  dimensions.  Diodorus  says,  that  the  houses  were 
four  and  five  stories  high.  Although  Thebes  had  greatly  fallen 
off"  from  its  ancient  splendor  at  the  time  of  Cambyses,  yet  it  was 
the  fury  of  this  merciless  conqueror  that  gave  the  last  blow  to  its 
grandeur.  This  prince  pillaged  the  temples,  carried  away  all 
the  ornaments  of  gold,  silver,  and  ivory,  which  decorated  its 
magnificent  buildings,  and  ruined  both  its  temples  and  its  build- 
ings. Before  this  unfortunate  epoch,  no  city  in  the  world  could 
be  compared  with  it  in  extent,  splendor,  and  riches;  and,  according 
to  the  expression  of  Diodorus,  the  sun  had  never  seen  so  magnifi- 
cent a  city. 

Previous  to  the   establishment  of  the  monarchical   govern- 

461 


462  KARNAC    AND    BAALBEC. 

ii^ent,  Thebes  was  the  residence  of  the  principal  college  of  the 
priesthood,  who  ruled  over  the  country.  It  is  to  this  epoch  that 
all  writers  i-efer  the  elevation  of  its  most  ancient  edifices.  The 
enumeration  of  them  all  would  require  more  time  than  we 
have. 

Here  was  the  temple,  or  palace  of  Karnac,  of  Luxor;  the 
Memnonium;  and  the  Medineh-Tabou,  or,  as  some  other  travel- 
ers spell  it,  Medinet-habou. 

The  temple,  or  the  palace  of  Karnac  was,  without  doubt, 
the  most  considerable  monument  of  ancient  Thebes.  It  was  not 
less  than  a  mile  and  a  half  in  circumference,  and  enclosed  about 
ten  acres.  M.  Denon  employed  nearly  twenty  minutes  on  horse- 
back in  going  round  it,  at  full  gallop.  The  principal  entrance  of 
the  grand  temple  is  on  the  northwest  side,  or  that  facing  the 
river.  From  a  raised  platform  commences  an  avenue  of  Crio- 
sphinxes  leading  to  the  front  propyla,  before  which  stood  two 
trranite  statues  of  a  Pharaoh.  One  of  these  towers  retains  a 
great  part  of  its  original  height,  but  has  lost  its  summit  and  cor- 
nice. Passing  through  the  pylon  of  these  towers  you  arrive  at 
a  large  open  court,  or  area,  275  feet  by  329  feet,  with  a  covered 
corridor  on  either  side,  and  a  double  line  of  columns  down  the 
centre.  Other  propylsea  terminate  this  area,  with  a  small  vesti- 
bule before  the  pylon,  and  form  the  front  of  the  grand  hall  of 
assembly,  the  lintel  stones  of  whose  doorway  were  forty  feet  ten 
inches  in  length.  The  grand  hall,  or  hypostyle  hall,  measures 
170  feet  by  329  feet,  supported  by  a  central  avenue  of  twelve 
massive  columns,  62  feet  high  (without  the  plinth  or  abacus),  and 
36  feet  in  circumference;  besides  122  of  smaller,  or,  rather  less 
gigantic  dimensions,  42  feet  5  inches  in  height,  and  28  feet  in  cir- 
cumference, distributed  in  seven  lines,  on  either  side  of  the 
former.  It  had  in  front  two  immense  courts,  adorned  by  ranges 
of  columns,  some  of  which  were  sixty  feet  high,  and  others 
eighty;  and  at  their  respective  entrances  there  were  two  colossal 


^m 


■J     ^-i^ 


COLUMNS  OF  KARNAC. 


464  KARNAC    AND    BAALBEC. 

Statues  on  the  same  scale.  In  the  middle  ol"  the  secc.id  court 
there  were  lour  obelisks  of  granite  of  a  finished  workmanship, 
three  of  which  are  still  standing.  They  stood  before  the  sanctu- 
ary, built  all  of  granite,  and  covered  with  sculptures  representing 
symbolical  attributes  of  the  god  to  whom  the  temple  was  conse- 
crated. This  was  the  Maker  of  the  universe,  the  Creator  of  all 
things,  the  Zeus  of  the  Greeks,  the  Jupiter  of  the  Latins,  but  the 
Ammon  of  the  Egyptians.  By  the  side  of  the  sanctuary  there 
were  smaller  buildings,  probably  the  apartments  of  those  at- 
tached to  the  service  of  the  temple;  and  behind  it  other  habita- 
tions, adorned  with  columns  and  porticos,  which  led  info  another 
immense  court,  having  on  each  side  closed  passages,  or  corridors,^ 
and  at  the  top  a  covered  portico,  or  gallery,  supported  by  a  great 
number  of  columns  and  pilasters.  In  this  way  the  sanctuary  was. 
entirely  surrounded  by  these  vast  and  splendid  buildings,  and  the 
whole  was  enclosed  by  a  wall,  covered  internally  and  externally 
with  symbols  and  hieroglyphics,  which  went  round  the  magnificent 
edifice. 

Beyond  this  wall  there  were  other  buildings,  and  other 
courts,  filled  with  colossal  statues  of  grey  and  white  marble. 
These  buildings,  or  temples,  communicated  with  each  other  by 
means  of  galleries  and  passages,  adorned  with  columns  and 
statues.  The  most  striking  circumstance,  however,  is,  that 
attached  to  this  palace  are  the  remains  of  a  much  more  consid- 
erable edifice,  of  higher  antiquity,  which  had  been  introduced 
into  the  general  plan  when  this  magnificent  building  was  restored 
by  the  Pharaoh  Amenophis,  the  third  king  of  the  eighteenth 
dynasty,  nearly  4,000  years  ago.  This  more  ancient  edifice,  or 
rather  its  ruins,  are  considered  to  be  more  than  4,000  years  old, 
or  2,272  years  Before  Christ.  A  second  wall  enclosed  the  whole 
mass  of  these  immense  and  splendid  buildings,  the  approach  to 
which  was  by  means  of  avenues,  having  on  their  right  and  left 
colossal  figures  of  sphinxes.     In  one  avenue  they  had  the   head 


STUPENDOUS    REMAINS.  j.65 

of  a  bull;  in  another  they  were  represented  with  a  human  head; 
in  a  third  with  a  ram's  head.  This  last  was  a  mile  and  a  half  in 
length,  began  at  the  southern  gate,  and  led  to  the  temple  ol 
Luxor. 

Dr.  Manning  says:  "  We  now  enter  the  most  stupendous 
pile  of  remains  (we  can  hardly  call  them  ruins)  in  the  world. 
Every  writer  who  has  attempted  to  describe  them  avows  his 
inability  to  convey  any  adequate  idea  of  their  extent  and  gran- 
deur. The  long  covered  avenues  of  sphinxes,  the  sculptured 
corridors,  the  columned  aisles,  the  gates  and  obelisks,  and  colos- 
sal statues,  all  silent  in  their  desolation,  fill  the  beholder  with 
awe."     (See  cut  on  page  463.) 

There  is  no  exaggeration  in  ChampoUion's  words:  "The 
imagination,  which,  in  Europe,  rises  far  above  our  porticos,  sinks 
abashed  at  the  foot  of  the  140  columns  of  the  hypostyle  hall  at 
Karnac.  The  area  of  this  hall  is  70,629  feet;  the  central 
columns  are  thirty-six  feet  in  circumiference  and  sixty-two  feet 
high,  without  reckoning  the  plinth  and  abacus.  They  are  cov- 
ered with  paintings  and  sculptures,  the  colors  of  which  are  won- 
derfully fresh  and  vivid.  If,  as  seems  probable,  the  great  design 
of  Egyptian  architecture  was  to  impress  man  with  a  feeling  of 
his  own  littleness,  to  inspire  a  sense  of  overwhelming  awe  in  the 
presence  of  the  Deity,  and  at  the  same  time  to  show  that  the 
monarch  was  a  being  of  superhuman  greatness,  these  edifices 
were  well  adapted  to  accomplish  their  purpose.  The  Egyptian 
beholder  and  worshiper  was  not  to  be  attracted  and  charmed, 
but  overwhelmed.  His  own  nothingness  and  the  terribleness  of 
the  power  and  the  will  of  God  was  what  he  was  to  feel.  But,  if 
the  awfulness  of  Deity  was  thus  inculcated,  the  divine  power  of 
the  Pharaoh  was  not  less  strikingly  set  forth.  He  is  seen  seated 
amongst  them,  nourished  from  their  breasts,  folded  in  their  arms, 
admitted  to  familiar  intercourse  with  them.  He  is  represented 
on  the  walls  of  the  temple  as  of  colossal  stature,  while  the  noblest 

30 


466  KARNAC    AND    BAALBEC. 

of  his  subjects  are  but  pigmies  in  his  presence ;  with  one  hand  he 
crushes  hosts  of  his  enemies,  with  the  other  he  grasps  that  of  his 
patron  deity. 

"  The  Pharaoh  was  the  earthly  manifestation  and  avatar  of 
the  unseen  and  mysterious  power  which  oppressed  the  souls  of 
man  with  terror.  'I  am  Pharaoh,'  '  By  the  life  of  Pharaoh,' 
'  Say  unto  Pharaoh  whom  art  thou  like  in  thy  greatness.'  These 
familiar  phrases  of  Scripture  gain  a  new  emphasis  of  meaning  as 
we  remember  them  amongst  these  temple  palaces." 

Speaking  of  this  magnificent  temple,  and  of  the  avenue  of 
sphinxes  we  have  just  mentioned,  Belzoni  exclaims,  that  "  on 
approaching  it  the  visitor  is  inspired  with  devotion  and  piety; 
their  enormous  size  strikes  him  with  wonder  and  respect  to  the 
gods  to  whom  they  were  dedicated.  The  immense  colossal 
statues,  which  are  seated  at  each  side  of  the  gate,  seems  guard- 
ing the  entrance  to  the  holy  ground;  still  farther  on  was  the 
majestic  temple,  dedicated  to  the  great  God  of  the  creation." 
And  a  little  after,  "  I  was  lost,"  says  he,  "  in  a  mass  of  colossal 
objects,  every  one  of  which  was  more  than  sufficient  of  itself 
alone  to  attract  my  whole  attention.  I  seemed  alone  in  the 
midst  of  all  that  is  most  sacred  in  the  world;  a  forest  of  enor- 
mous columns,  adorned  all  round  with  beautiful  figures  and 
various  ornaments  from  top  to  bottom.  The  graceful  shape  of 
the  lotus,  which  forms  their  capitals,  and  is  so  well-proportioned 
to  the  columns,  that  it  gives  to  the  view  the  most  pleasing  effect; 
the  gates,  the  walls,  the  pedestals,  and  the  architraves  also 
adorned  in  every  part  with  symbolical  figures  in  basso  relievo 
and  ijitaglio^  representing  battles,  processions,  triumphs,  feasts, 
offerings,  and  sacrifices,  all  relating  to  the  ancient  history  of  the 
country;  the  sanctuary,  wholly  formed  of  fine  red  granite,  with 
the  various  obelisks  standing  before  it,  proclaiming  to  the  distant 
passenger,  'Here  is  the  seat  of  holiness;'  the  high  portals,  seen 
at  a  distance  from  the  openings  of  the  vast  labyrinth  of  edifices; 


TEMPLE    OF    LUXOR. 


467 


the  various  groups  of  ruins  of  the  other  temples  within  sight; 
these  altogether  had  such  an  effect  upon  my  soul  as  to  separate 
me,  in  imagination,  from  the  rest  of  mortals,  exalt  me  on  high 
over  all,  and  cause  me  to  forget  entirely  the  trifles  and  follies  of 
life.  I  was  happy  for  a  whole  day,  which  escaped  like  a  flash  of 
lightning." 

Such  is  the  language  of  Belzoni  in  describing  these  majestic 
ruins,  and  the  effect  they  had  upon  him.  Strong  and  enthusiastic 
as  his  expressions  may,  perhaps,  appear,  they  are  perfectly  similar, 
we  assure  you,  to  those  of  other  travelers  They  all  seem  to  have 
lost  the  power  of  expressing  their  wonC  ?r  and  astonishment,  and 
frequently  borrow  the  words  and  phrases  of  foreign  nations  to  de- 
scribe their  feelings  at  the  sight  of  these  venerable  and  gigantic 
efforts  of  the  old  Egyptians. 

We  have  said  that  this  avenue  of  sphinxes  led  to  the  temple 
of  Luxor. 

This  second  temple,  though  not  equal  to  that  of  Karnac  in 
regard  to  its  colossal  proportions,  was  its  equal  in  magnificence, 
and  much  superior  to  it  in  beauty  and  style  of  execution. 

At  its  entrance  there  still  stand  two  obelisks  100  feet  high, 
and  of  one  single  blocK,  covered  with  hieroglyphics  executed  in 
a  masterly  style.  It  is  at  the  feet  of  these  obelisks  that  one  may 
judge  of  the  high  degree  of  perfection  to  which  the  Egyptians 
had  carried  their  knowledge  in  mechanics.  We  have  seen, 
that  it  costs  fortunes  to  move  them  from  their  place.  They 
were  followed  by  two  colossal  statues  forty  feet  high.  After 
passing  through  three  different  large  courts,  filled  with  columns 
of  great  dimensions,  the  traveler  reached  the  sanctuary,  sur- 
rounded by  spacious  halls  supported  by  columns,  and  exhibiting 
the  most  beautiful  mass  of  sculpture  in  the  best  style  of  execu- 
tion. 

"  It  is  absolutely  impossible,"  again  exclaims  Belzoni,  "to 
imagine  the  scene  displayed,  without  seeing  it.     The  most   sub- 


a6S  karnac  and  baalbec. 

lime  ideas  that  can  be  ibrmed  from  the  most  magnificent  speci- 
mens of  our  present  architecture,  would  give  a  very  incorrect 
picture  of  these  ruins.  It  appeared  to  me  like  entering  a  city  of 
giants,  who,  after  a  long  conflict,  were  all  destroyed,  leaving  ruins 
of  their  various  temples,  as  the  only  proofs  of  their  former  exist- 
ence. The  temple  of  Luxor,"  he  adds,  ''  presents  to  the  trav- 
eler at  once  one  of  the  most  splendid  groups  of  Egyptian  grandeur. 
The  extensive  propyla^on,  with  the  two  obelisks,  and  colossal 
statues  in  the  front;  the  thick  groups  of  enormous  columns,  the 
varietv  of  apartments,  and  the  sanctuary  it  contains.  The  beauti- 
ful ornaments  which  adorn  every  part  of  the  walls  and  columns, 
cause  in  the  astonished  traveler  an  oblivion  of  all  that  he  has  seen 
before." 

So  far  Belzoni:  and  in  this  he  is  borne  out  by  ChampoUion, 
who  speaks  of  Thebes  in  terms  of  equal  admiration.  "  iMl  that 
I  had  seen,  all  that  I  had  admired  on  the  left  bank,"  says  this 
learned  Frenchman,  "  appeared  miserable  in  comparison  with  the 
gigantic  conceptions  by  which  I  was  surrounded  at  Karnac.  I 
shall  take  care  not  to  attempt  to  describe  any  thing;  for  either 
my  description  would  not  express  the  thousandth  part  of  what 
ought  to  be  said,  or,  if  I  drew  a  faint  sketch,  I  should  be  taken 
for  an  enthusiast,  or,  perhaps,  for  a  madman.  It  will  suffice  to 
add,  that  no  people,  either  ancient  or  modern,  ever  conceived  the 
art  of  architecture  on  so  sublime  and  so  grand  a  scale  as  the 
ancient  Egyptians." 

The  Great  Pyramid,  which  is  yet  an  enigma,  stands  for  our 
astonishment  Herodotus  tells  us,  when  speaking  of  the  Laby- 
rinth of  Egypt,  that  it  had  3,000  chambers,  half  of  them  above 
and  half  below  ground.  He  says,  "  The  upper  chambers  I  my- 
self passed  through  and  saw,  and  what  I  say  concerning  them  is 
from  my  own  observation.  Of  the  underground  chambers  I  can 
only  speak  from  the  report,  for  the  keepers  of  the  building  could 
not  be  got  to  show  them,  since  they  contained,  as  they  said,  the 


CHAMBERS    OF    THE    GREAT    PYRAMID. 


469 


THE   GREAT   PYRAMID   AINU   Sl'IlI^X 


sepulchres  of  the  kings  who  built  the  labyrinth,  and  also  those 
of  the  sacred  crocodiles; 
thus  it  is  from  hearsay 
only  that  I  can  speak  of 
the  lower  chambers. 
The  upper  chambers, 
however,  I  saw  with 
my  own  eyes,  and  found 
them  to  excel  all  other 
human  productions.  The 
passage  through  the 
houses,  and  the  various 
windings  of  the  path  across  the  courts,  excited  in  me  infinite 
admiration,  as  I  passed  from  the  courts  into  the  chambers,  and 
from  chambers  into  colonnades,  and  from  colonnades  into  fresh 
houses,  and  again  from  these  into  courts  unseen  before.  The 
roof  was  throughout  of  stone  like  the  walls,  and  the  walls  were 
carved  all  over  with  figures.  Every  court  was  surrounded  with 
a  colonnade,  which  was  built  of  white  stone  exquisitel}^  fitted 
together.  At  the  corner  of  the  labyrinth  stands  a  pyramid  forty 
fathoms  high,  with  large  figures  engraved  on  it,  which  is  entered 
by  a  subterranean  passage."  No  one  who  has  read  an  account 
of  the  Great  Pyramid  of  Egypt,  the  building  of  Solomon's  Tem- 
ple, and  of  the  ruins  of  ancient  stone  buildings  still  remaining, 
will  doubt  the  ability  of  the  ancients  in  the  art  of  building  with 
stones.     Baalbec  has  probabl}^  the  largest  stones  ever  used. 

Baalbec  is  situated  on  a  plain  now  called  Bukaa,  at  the 
northern  end  of  a  low  range  of  black  hills,  about  one  mile  from 
the  base  of  Anti-Lebanon. 

It  is  unknown  just  how  old  it  is,  or  b}'  whom  it  was  built. 
Dr.  Kitto,  in  his  "History  of  the  Bible,"  ascribes  the  building  of 
it  to  Solomon.  But  the  present  remains  are  mostly  of  a  later 
period,  probably  about   3,000  years  old.     Some  of  the   material 


470 


KARNAC    AND    BAALBEC. 


and  some  of  the  original  foundations  were  used  again  for  the  sec- 
ond structures. 

Baalbec  has  justly  received  a  world-wide  celebrity,  owing 
to  the  magnificence  of  its  ruins,  which  have  excited  the  wonder 
and  admiration  of  travelers  who  have  enjoyed  the  privilege  of 
seeing  them.  Its  temples  are  among  the  most  magnificent  of 
Grecian  architecture.  The  temples  of  Athens  no  doubt  excel  them 
in  taste  and  purity  of  style,  but  they  are  vastly  inferior  in  dimen- 
sions. 

While  the  edifices  of  Thebes  exceed  them  in  magnitude,  they 
bear  no  comparison  with  the  symmetry  of  the  columns,  with  the 
richness  of  the  doorways,  and  the  friezes,  which  abound  at  Baal- 
bec, The  foundations  of  the  great  temple  are  themselves  en- 
titled to  rank  with  the  pyramids  among  the  wonders  of  the  world, 
being  raised  twenty  feet  above  the  level  of  the  ground,  and  have 
in  them  stones  of  one  solid  mass  ninety  feet  long,  eighteen  feet 
wide,  and  thirteen  feet  thick. 

The  main  attractions,  however,  are  the  three  temples  or 
main  chambers.  The  first,  which  may  be  called  the  great  tem- 
ple, consists  of  a  peristyle,  of  which  only  six  columns  remain,  two 
courts  and  a  portico  are  standing  on  an  artificial  platform,  nearly 
thirty  feet  high,  and  having  vaults  underneath.  Beneath  the 
whole  platform  is  an  immense  court  of  two  hundred  feet  across; 
it  is  a  hexagon  or  nearly  round  shape.  It  is  accessible  by  a  vaulted 
passage,  which  leads  to  a  triplet  gateway,  with  deep  mouldings, 
which  opens  into  the  first  court. 

The  great  court  is  440  feet  long  by  370  feet  wide,  and  has 
on  each  of  its  sides  niches  and  columns,  which,  even  in  their 
ruins,  arc  magnificent. 

The  two  sides  exactl}^  correspond  with  each  other,  but 
the  south  is  in  better  condition  than  the  other.  These  niches 
have  columns  in  front  of  them  in  the  style  of  the  hexagon,  with 
chambe*--)  at  the  angles  of  the  great  court  or  square.    The  visitor 


i 


4 


i^Ji 


V:. . 


THE    GREAT    TEMPLE. 


471 


entering  through  the  portico,  and  passing  into  the  great  court, 
has  before  him  on  the  opposite  side  (the  west)  of  the  court, 
the  Greac  Temple  originally  dedicated  to  Baal.  This  was  a  mag- 
nificent peristyle  measuring  290  feet  by  160  feet,  with  nineteen 
huge  columns  on  each  side,  and  ten  on  each  end,  making  fifty- 
eight  in  all.  The  circumference  of  these  columns  at  the  base  is 
twenty-three  feet  and  two  inches,  and  at  the  top  twenty  feet ;  and 
their  height,  including  base  and  capital,  was  seventy-five  feet, 
while  over  this  was  the  entablature  fourteen  feet  more.  In  the 
walls  of  the  foundation  are  seen  those  enormous  stones,  some 
ninety  feet  in  length;  others,  sixty-four,  sixty-three,  sixt3^-two, 
etc.,  and  all  from  thirteen  to  eighteen  feet  wide,  and  very  frequently 
thirteen  feet  thick.  These  stones  mark  the  extent  of  a  platform 
of  unknown  antiquity,  but  far  oldei  than  the  peristyle  temple,  and 
it  is  from  this  that  the  temple  took  its  early  date  and  name.  It 
is  probable  that  the  great  stones  lying  in  the  adjoining  quarry 
were  intended  for  it,  as  the  temple  at  that  date  seems  to  have 
been  left  unfinished. 

The  second  temple  has  not  quite  the  dimensions  that  the 
first  has,  but  it  is  one  of  the  grandest  monuments  of  the  ancient 
art  in  Syria.  It  is  227  feet  by  117.  Its  peristyle  is  composed 
of  forty-two  columns,  fifteen  on  each  side  and  eight  on  each  end. 
At  the  portico  was  an  immense  row  of  six  fluted  columns,  and 
within  these,  and  opposite  to  the  ends  of  the  antse,  were  two 
others.  The  height  of  these  columns  is  sixty-five  feet,  and  their 
circumference  nineteen  feet  and  two  inches,  while  the  entablature, 
richly  ornamented  above  the  columns,  was  about  twelve  feet 
high. 

The  portico  is  destroyed,  only  a  few  pieces  of  the  shafts 
remaining,  and  the  steps  by  which  it  was  approached  are  also 
destroyed.  The  columns  of  the  peristyle  have  mostly  fallen; 
but  four  remain  with  their  entablatures  on  the  south  side  near 
the  portico;  on  the  west  end  there  are  six  remaining,  and  on  the 


472 


KARXAC    AND    BAALBEC. 


north  there  are  nine.  The  cut  on  page  473  gives  somewhat  of 
an  idea  of  this  temple. 

In  1759  an  earthquake  threw  down  three  columns  of  the 
great  temple  and  nine  of  the  peristyle  of  the  Temple  of  the  Sun. 
It  would  appear  as  though  nothing  but  an  earthquake  could 
destroy  these  remains,  and  they  even  seem  to  withstand  this  with 
wonderful  resistance.  At  the  western  end  is  the  cella^  or 
innermost  sacred  part  of  the  edifice,  it  is  160  feet  by  85.  A 
modern  wall  was  built  across  the  vestibule  and  the  onl}-  entrance 
is  throuirh  a  low  hole  broken  in  the  wall.  Entering:  throuffh  this 
aperture  the  spectator  has  before  him  the  gem  of  the  structure, 
the  great  portal.  It  was  twenty -one  feet  high  and  forty- two  feet 
long  and  gorgeously  oi-namented.  The  sides  are  each  of  a  single 
stone,  and  the  lintels  are  composed  of  three  huge  blocks.  Borders 
of  fruit,  flowers  and  leaves  are  profuse  on  the  architrave,  and  on 
the  soffit  of  the  door  is  the  celebrated  figure  of  the  eagle  with  a 
caduceus  in  his  talons,  and  in  his  beak  strings  of  long  twisted 
garlands,  w^hich  are  extended  on  each  side  and  have  the  opposite 
ends  borne  by  flying  genii. 

In  1 75 1  the  portal  was  perfect.  When  Wood  sketched  it, 
but  eight  years  afterwards,  the  shock  of  an  earthquake  rent  the 
wall  and  permitted  the  central  stone  to  sink  about  two  feet. 
Yet,  even  in  this  state,  it  is  one  of  the  most  striking  and  beauti- 
ful gateways  in  the  world.  The  first  compartment  measures 
ninety-eight  feet  by  sixty-seven,  having  fluted  columns  on  each 
side,  and  the  sanctum,  or  place  for  the  altar  and  statue,  occupies 
a  space  of  twenty-nine  feet  deep  at  the  western  end  and  consid- 
erably raised  above  the  floor  of  the  nave.  Such  were  the  ar- 
rangements of  this  vast  magnificent  edifice. 

It  may  be  well  to  mention  here  another  building  although 
not  so  old  nor  large,  but  we  wish  to  speak  of  it  because  it  is  so 
remarkable  in  withstanding  time. 

Wc  are   speaking  of  the   Pantheon,  the  splendid  building 


474 


PAXTHEOX     AT    ROME. 


erected  by  M.  Agrippa,  the  friend  of  Augustus,  in  immediate 
connection  ^vith  the  Thermcie,  built  and  dedicated  to  Jupiter 
Ultor  by  him.  This  building,  which  embodied,  as  it  were,  the 
highest  aspirations  of  Roman  national  pride  and  power,  was  com- 
pleted, according  to  the  original  inscription  preserved  on  it,  B.  C. 
2^,  in  which  year  Agrippa  was  consul  for  the  third  time.  Accord- 
ing to  the  statement  of  Pliny  (''His.  Nat.,''  36,  24,  i),  which  how- 
e\cr,  has  been  disputed,  it  was  originally  dedicated  to  Jupiter 
Ultor,  whose  statue,  therefore,  undoubtedly  stood  in  the  chief 
niche  opposite  the  entrance.  The  other  six  niches  contained  the 
statues  of  as  many  gods ;  those  of  the  chief  deities  of  the  Julian 
family,  Mars  and  Venus,  and  of  the  greatest  son  of  that  family, 
the  divine  Cocsar,  being  the  only  ones  amongst  the  number  of 
which  we  have  certain  knowledge.  Was  it  that  the  statues  of 
Mars  and  Venus  showed  the  attributes  of  the  other  principal 
gods,  or  that  the  statues  of  the  latter  stood  in  the  small  chapels 
iccdiculcc)  between  the  niches,  or  that  the  unequaled  enormous 
cupola  was  supposed  to  represent  heaven,  that  is,  the  house  of  all 
the  gods?  Certain  it  is  that,  together  with  the  old  appellation 
the  new  name  of  the  Pantheon,  i.  e.,  temple  of  all  the  gods,  was 
soon  applied  to  the  building.  The  latter  name  has  been  unani- 
mously adopted  by  posterity,  and  has  even  originated  the  Chris- 
tian destination  of  the  edifice  as  church  of  all  the  martyrs  (S. 
Maria  ad  Martyres).  Without  entering  into  the  consecutive 
changes  the  building  has  undergone  in  the  course  of  time,  we 
will  now  attempt  a  description  of  its  principal  features.  The 
temple  consists  of  two  parts,  the  round  edifice  and  the  portico. 
The  former  was  132  feet  in  diameter,  exclusive  of  the  thickness  of 
the  wall,  which  amounts  to  19  feet.  The  wall  is  perfectly  circu- 
lar, and  contains  eight  apertures,  one  of  which  serves  as  entrance^ 
while  the  others  form,  in  a  certain  order,  either  semicircular  or 
quadrangular  niches:  the  Ibrnier  are  covered  bv  semi-cupolas,  the 
latter  by  barrel-vaults.     Only  the  niche  opposite  the  entrance  is,. 


THE    PANTHEON. 


475 


at  the  present  time,  uninterrupted,  and  open  up  to  its  full  height, 
thus  corresponding  with  the  formation  of  the  entrance  section;  in 
front  of  each  of  the  others,  two  columns  have  been  erected,  the 
beams  of  whicli  close  the  opening  of  the  sen:iicircular  vault.      To 


TNSIDE   VIEW   OP   THE   PANTHEON. 


this  chief  portion  of  the  building  is  attached  the  splendid  portico 
which,  in  the  manner  of  the  above-mentioned  temples,  projects  by 
three  columns,  besides   a  massive   wall-structure.     The  frontage 


476 


PANTHEON. 


shows  eii^ht  columns.  As  a  rule,  the  whole  space  of  the  pronaos 
was  without  columns;  contran-  to  the  rule  we  here  see  it  divided 
into  three  naves  b\-  means  ot"  two  pairs  ot"  columns.  The  center 
nave,  which  was  also  the  widest,  led  to  the  entrance-door,  each 
of  the  two  others  being  terminated  by  an  enormous  niche.  Not 
to  mention  a^sthetical  considerations,  these  columns  were  required 
as  props  of  the  roof  covering  the  vast  space  (the  portico  is  about 
I  GO  feet  long). 

The  columns  of  the  portico  carried  beams,  on  the  frieze  of 
which  the  following  inscription  in  large  letters  has  been  placed: 
M-AGRIPPA-L-F-COS-TERTIUM-FECIT.  Another  inscrip- 
tion below  this  one,  in  smaller  characters,  states  the  building  to 
ha\e  been  restored  by  Septimius  Severus  and  Caracalla.  The 
beams  carrv  a  large  pediment,  originally  adorned  with  groups  of 
statues  representing  Jupiter's  victories  over  the  Gigantes.  Be- 
hind and  above  this  gable  rises  a  second  one  of  the  same  propor- 
tions, serving  as  an  ornament  of  the  projecting  wall  w^hich  con- 
nects the  round  building  with  the  portico.  The  roof  of  the 
portico  was  supported  b}'  beams  made  of  brass.  According  to 
the  drawing  of  Serlio,  these  beams  were  not  massive,  but  con- 
sisted of  brass  plates  riveted  together  into  square  pipes — a  prin- 
ciple frequently  applied  by  modern  engineers  on  a  larger  scale  in 
building  bridges,  etc.  Unfortunately,  the  material  of  the  roof, 
barring  some  of  the  large  rivets,  has  been  used  by  Pope  Urban 
VIII.  for  guns  and  various  ornaments  ol  doubtful  taste  in  St. 
Peter's  Cathedral.  Tlie  large  columns  carrying  the  ugly  taber- 
nacle on  the  grave  of  St.  Peter  are  one  of  the  results  of  this  bar- 
barous spoliation.  The  old  door,  also  made  of  brass,  which  leads 
from  the  portico  into  the  interior  has,  on  the  contrary,  been  pre- 
served. The  outer  appearance  of  the  round  building  is  simple 
and  dignihed.  It  most  likeh'  was  originallv  covered  with  stucco 
and  terra-cotta  r)rnaments,  of  which,  however,  little  remains  at 
present;  but  the  simple  bricks,  particularly  in  the  upper  stripes, 


THE    PAN'lHEON. 


477 


THE   PANTHEON    AT   ROME. 


where  the  insertion  of  the  vault  becomes  visible,  look,  perhapSy 
quite  as  beautiful  as  the  original  coating.  The  whole  cylinder  of 
masonry   is    divided    into  ".--  --.  ,  ^^^^^ 

three  stripes  by  means  of 
cornices,  which  break  the 
heaviness  of  the  outline,  the 
divisions  of  the  inner  space 
corresponding  to  those  of 
the  outer  surface.  The 
first  of  these  stripes  is 
about  forty  feet  high,  and 
rests  on  a  base  of  Trav- 
ertine freestone.  It  con- 
sists of  simple  horizontal 
slabs  of  stone,  broken  only 
by  doors  which  lead  to 
chambers  built  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall  between  the  niches. 
It  corresponds  to  the  columns  forming  the  first  story  of  the  inte- 
rior, the  two  cornices,  in  and  outside,  being  on  a  level.  The 
second  stripe,  about  thirty  feet  in  height,  answers  to  the  second 
story  of  the  interior,  where  the  semicircular  arches  of  the  niches 
are  situated.  The  horizontal  stone  layers  outside  are  accordingly 
broken  by  large  double  arches,  destined  to  balance  the  vaults  in 
the  interior.  They  alternate  with  smaller  arches,  thus  forming  a 
decoration  of  the  exterior  at  once  dignified  and  in  harmon}'  with 
the  general  design  of  the  building.  The  two  cornices  in  and  out- 
side are  again  on  a  level.  The  third  stripe  corresponds  to  the 
cupola,  the  tension  of  which  is  equal  to  140  feet.  The  outer 
masonry  reaches  up  to  about  a  third  of  its  height,  from  which 
point  the  cupola  proper  begins  to  rise  in  seven  mighty  steps. 

The  height  of  the  dome  is  equal  to  the  diameter  of  the  cy- 
lindrical building,  132  feet,  which  adds  to  the  sober  and  harmo- 
nious impression  of  the  whole  building.     The  lower  of  the  above- 


4^8  PANTHEON     AT    ROME. 

mentioned  interior  stories  is  adorned  with  columns  and  pilasters, 
the  latter  of  which  enclosed  the  niches.  Eight  oi"  these  columns, 
oxer  thirty-two  feet  in  height,  are  monoliths  of  giaUo  antico — 
a  yellow  kind  of  marble  beautifully  veined,  and  belonging  to  the 
most  valuable  materials  used   by   ancient   architects.      Six  other 


HALF-SECTION    OK  TIIK    PANTHEON. 


columns  are  made  of  a  kind  of  marble  known  ?i%  pavouazzetfo; 
h\  an  ingenious  mode  of  coloring  these  columns  are  made  to  har- 
monize with  those  consisting  of  the  rarer  material.  Above  the 
first  lies  a  second  lower  story,  the  architectural  arrangements  of 
which  may  be  recognized  from  Adler's  ingenious  attempt  at  re- 
construction.     Its  orii^inal  decoration  consisted  of  tablets   of  col- 


EGYPTIAN    OBELISKS.  479 

ored  marble,  the  effect  being  similar  to  that  of  a  sequence  of  nar- 
row pilasters.  This  original  decoration  has  later  been  changed 
for  another.  Above  the  chief  cornice  which  crowns  this  story,  and 
at  the  same  time  terminates  the  circular  walls,  rises  the  cupola, 
divided  into  five  stripes,  each  of  which  contains  twenty-tive 
"  caskets"  beautifully  worked  and  in  excellent  perspective.  In 
the  center  at  the  top  is  an  opening,  forty  feet  in  diameter,  through 
which  the  Hght  enters  the  building.  Near  this  opening  a  frag- 
ment has  been  preserved  of  the  bronze  ornamentation  which  once 
seems  to  have  co\^ered  the  whole  cupola.  Even  without  these 
elegant  decorations  the  building  still  excites  the  spectator's  ad- 
miration, as  one  of  the  masterpieces  of  Roman  genius. 

Obelisks  were  in  Egypt  commemorative  pillars  recording 
the  st3'le  and  the  title  of  the  king  who  erected  them,  his  piety, 
and  the  proof  he  gave  of  it  in  dedicating  those  monoliths  to  the 
deity  whom  he  especially  wished  to  honor.  They  are  made  of  a 
single  block  '  of  stone,  cut  into  a  quadrilateral  form,  the  width 
diminishing  gradually  from  the  base  to  the  top  of  the  shaft, 
which  terminates  in  a  small  pyramid  (pyramidion).  They  were 
placed  on  a  plain  square  pedestal,  but  larger  than  the  obelisk 
itself  Obelisks  are  of  Egyptian  origin.  The  Romans  and  the 
moderns  have  imitated  them,  but  they  never  equaled  their  models. 

Egyptian  obelisks  are  generally  made  of  red  granite  of 
Syene.  There  are  some,  however,  of  smaller  dimensions  made 
of  sandstone  and  basalt.  They  were  generally  placed  in  pairs  at 
the  entrances  of  temples,  on  each  side  of  the  propyla.  The  shaft 
was  commonly  ten  diameters  in  height,  and  a  fourth  narrower  at 
the  top  than  at  the  base.  Of  the  two  which  were  before  the 
palace  of  Luxor  at  Thebes,  one  is  seventy-two  feet  high,  and  six 
feet,  two  inches  wide  at  the  base;  the  other  is  seventy-seven  feet 
high,  and  seven  feet,  eight  inches  wide.  Each  face  is  adorned 
with  hieroglyphical  inscriptions  in  intas^lio^  and  the  summit  is 
terminated  by  a  pyramid,  the  four  sides  of  which  represent  relig- 


^.So  OBELISKS. 

ions  scenes,  also  accompanied  by  inscriptions.  The  corners  of 
tile  obelisks  are  sharp  and  well  cut,  but  their  faces  are  not  per- 
fectly plane,  and  their  slight  convexity  is  a  proof  of  the  attention 
the  Egyptians  paid  to  the  construction  of  their  monuments.  If 
their  faces  were  plane  they  would  appear  concave  to  the  eye;  the 
convexity  compensates  for  this  optical  illusion.  The  hieroglyph- 
ical  inscriptions  are  in  a  perpendicular  line,  sometimes  there  is 
but  one  in  the  middle  of  the  breadth  of  the  face,  and  often  there 
are  three.  The  inscription  was  a  commemoration  by  the  king 
who  had  the  temple  or  palace  built  before  which  the  obelisk  was 
placed.  It  contained  a  record  stating  the  houses  and  titles  which 
the  king  who  erected,  enlarged,  or  gave  rich  presents  to  a  tem- 
ple, had  received  in  return  from  the  priesthood,  and  setting  forth^ 
for  instance,  that  Rameses  was  the  lord  of  an  obedient  people, 
and  the  beloved  of  Amnion.  Such  is  the  subject  of  the  inscrip- 
tion which  is  in  the  middle  of  each  face  of  the  obelisks;  and 
though  the  name  of  the  same  king  and  the  same  events  are 
repeated  on  the  four  sides,  there  exists  in  the  four  texts,  when 
compared,  some  difference,  either  in  the  invocation  to  the  partic- 
ular divinities  or  in  the  titles  of  the  king.  Every  obelisk  had,  in 
its  original  form,  but  a  single  inscription  on  each  face,  and  of  the 
same  period  of  the  king  who  had  erected  it ;  but  a  king  who 
came  after  him,  adding  a  court,  a  portico,  or  colonnade  to  the 
temple  or  palace,  had  another  inscription  relative  to  his  addition, 
with  his  name  engraved  on  the  original  obelisk;  thus,  every 
obelisk  adorned  with  many  inscriptions  is  of  several  periods. 
The  p\'ramidion  which  terminates  them  generall}'  represents  in 
its  sculptures  the  king  who  erected  the  obelisk  making  different 
offerings  to  the  principal  deity  of  the  temple,  and  to  other  divin- 
ities. Sometimes  also  the  offering  is  of  the  obelisk  itself  The 
short  inscriptions  of  the  pyramidion  bear  the  oval  of  the  king 
and  the  name  of  the  divinity.  By  these  ovals  can  be  known 
the  names  of  the  kings  who  erected  the   obelisks  still  existing, 


OBELISKS. 


481 


whether  in  Egypt  or  elsewhere.  The  largest  obelisk  known  is 
that  of  St.  John  Lateran,  Rome.  It  was  brought  from  Heliopo- 
lis  to  Alexandria  by  the  emperor  Constantine,  and  was  conveyed 


OBELISK  OF  HELTOPOLis  (Over  4000  years  old). 
The  following  is  a  translation  of  the  hieroglyphic  writing  which  is  set  Into  it^. 
"TheHorus;  the  living  from  his  birth;  the  king  of  Upper  and  Lower  Egypt;  Ra 
Kheper  Ka;  Lord  of  the  two  diadems;  Son  of  the  sun;  Osirtasen;  the  loved  of  the 
God  of  Heliopolis  from  his  birth;  Ever-living;  The  golden  Horus;  the  Good  God;  Ra 
Kheper  Ka  to  the  first  celebration  of  the  panegyry.  He  (has)  made  (this  obelisk)  the 
eternal  generator." 

to  Rome  by  Constantius,  who  erected  it  in  the  Circus  Maxitnus. 
The  height  of  the  shaft  is  105   feet,  7  inches.     The  sides  are  of 

31 


482 


OBELISKS. 


unequal  breadth  at  the  base,  two  measure  nine  feet,  eight  and 
one-hah'  inches,  the  other  two  only  nine  feet.  It  bears  the  name 
of  Thohtmes  III.  in  the  central,  and  that  of  Thohtmes  IV.  in  the 
lateral  lines,  kings  of  the  eigliteenth  dynasty,  in  the  fifteenth 
century  B.  C.  The  two  obelisks  at  Luxor  were  erected  by  the 
king  Rameses  II.,  of  the  nineteenth  dynasty,  131 1  B.  C,  (Wil- 
kinson). One  of  these  has  been  taken  to  Paris.  The  obelisk  of 
Heliopolis  bears  the  name  of  Osirtasen  I.,  2020  B.  C.  (Wilkin- 
son), and  is  consequentl}'  the  most  ancient.  It  is  about  sixty- 
seven  feet  high.  The  obelisks  at  Alexandria  were  brought  from 
Heliopolis  about  2,000  years  ago.  The  one  that  was  lying  in 
tlic  sand,  and  the  smaller  of  the  two,  was  removed  to  London 
some  years  ago,  and  the  other,  which  was  still  standing,  was 
presented  to  the  United  States  by  Ismail  Pasha,  father  of  the 
present  Khedive.  This  monument  of  antiquity  is  an  inestimable 
treasure  to  our  country.  It  bears  the  name  of  Thohtmes  III.  In 
the  lateral  lines  are  the  ovals  of  Rameses  the  Great.  It  is  of  red 
granite  of  Syene.  It  bears  the  name  of  Cleopatra's  Needle, 
is  about  seventy  feet  high,  with  a  diameter  at  its  base  of  seven 
feet,  seven  inches.  We  can  hardly  appreciate  that  we  should 
have  standing  in  New  York  a  relic  so  ancient — a  column  upon 
which  Moses  and  Aaron  looked,  and  doubtless  read  its  hiero- 
glyphic inscription;  that  Rameses  the  Great  (Sesostris)  had  his 
knightly  banner  carved  upon  it;  that  Darius,  Cambyses,  Alex- 
ander the  Great,  the  Ptolemies,  Julius  Csesar,  Cleopatra,  Mark 
Antony  and  Augustus  knew  it;  that  it  was  equally  known  and 
beheld  of  Pythagoras,  Herodotus  and  Strabo;  that  a  long  pro- 
cession of  the  most  illustrious  characters  of  the  middle  ages  have 
passed  before  it,  from  the  days  of  Clement  and  Anastasius  to 
those  of  Don  John  of  Austria;  and,  finally,  that  it  was  the  first 
herald  of  Egypt  to  Napoleon  and  Mohammed  Ali.  A  monu- 
ment like  this  will  truly  be  cherished  by  every  citizen.  The 
obelisk   of  the    Piazza  del   Popolo   claims   great   interest,   as   it 


OBELISKS.  483 

also  Stood  before  the  Temple  of  the  Sun  at  Heliopolis.  Lep- 
sius  attributes  it  to  Meneptha.  It  was  removed  to  Rome  by 
Augustus,  B.  C.  19,  to  ornament  the  Circus  Maximus.  The 
obeHsk  in  front  of  St.  Peter's  was  brought  to  Rome  by  CaHgula, 
and  placed  on  the  Vatican  in  the  Circus  of  Caligula.  It  is  about 
eighty-three  feet  high.  There  are  several  other  Egyptian  obe- 
lisks in  Rome.  Nothing  can  afford  a  greater  idea  of  the  skill  of 
the  Egyptians,  and  of  their  wonderful  knowledge  of  mechanism, 
than  the  erection  of  these  monoliths. 

The  Greeks  never  made  obelisks  outside  of  Egypt.  The 
Macedonian  kings,  or  Ptolemies,  who  reigned  in  that  country,  from 
Alexander  to  Augustus,  erected,  terminated,  or  enlarged  many 
monuments,  but  always  according  to  Egyptian  rules.  Egyptian 
artists  executed  obelisks  for  their  Greek  princes,  but  they  did 
not  depart,  any  more  than  in  the  other  monuments,  from  their 
ancient  customs.  The  Egyptian  style  and  proportions  are  al- 
wa}'s  to  be  recognized,  and  the  inscriptions  are  also  traced  in 
hieroglyphics.  The  obelisk  found  at  Philse  was  erected  in  honor 
of  Ptolemy  Evergetes  II.  and  of  Cleopatra,  his  sister,  or  Cleo- 
patra, his  wife,  and  placed  on  a  base  bearing  a  Greek  inscription 
relating  the  reason  and  occasion  of  this  monument.  It  was 
removed  from  Philse  by  Belzoni,  and  has  been  now  erected  at 
Kingston  Hall,  Dorset,  by  Mr.  Bankes.  It  is  very  far  from  equal- 
ing the  Pharaonic  obelisks  in  dimensions,  it  being  only  twenty- 
two  feet  high. 

After  the  Romans  had  made  Egypt  a  Roman  province  they 
carried  away  some  of  its  obelisks.  Augustus  was  the  first  who 
conceived  the  idea  of  transporting  these  immense  blocks  to 
Rome;  he  was  imitated  by  Caligula,  Constantine,  and  others. 
They  were  generally  erected  in  some  circus.  Thirteen  remain 
at  the  present  day  at  Rome,  some  of  which  are  of  the  time  of 
the  Roman  domination  in  Egypt.  The  Romans  had  obelisks 
made  in  honor  of  their  princes,  but  the  material  and   the  work- 


484  OBELISKS. 

manship  of  the  inscriptions  cause  them  to  be  easily  distinguished 
from  tlie  more  ancient  obeHsks.  The  Barberini  obeHsk,  on  the 
Monte  Pincio,  is  of  this  number;  it  bears  the  names  of  Adrian, 
of  Sabina,  his  wife,  and  of  Antinous,  his  favorite.  The  obeHsk 
of  the  Piazza  Navona,  from  the  style  of  its  hieroglyphics,  is 
supposed  to  be  a  Roman  work  of  the  time  of  Domitian.  The 
name  of  Santus  Rufus  can  be  read  on  the  Albani  obelisk,  now  at 
Munich,  and  as  there  are  two  Roman  prefects  of  Egypt  known 
of  that  name,  it  was,  therefore,  one  of  those  magistrates  who 
had  executed  in  that  country  these  monuments  in  honor  of  the 
reigning  emperors,  and  then  had  them  sent  to  Rome.  The 
Romans  also  attempted  to  make  obelisks  at  Rome;  such  is  the 
obelisk  of  the  Trinita  de'  Monti,  which  formerly  stood  in  the 
Circus  of  Sallust.  It  is  a  bad  cop}'  of  that  of  the  Porta  del 
Popolo.  The  Roman  emperors  in  the  east  had  also  some  Egyp- 
tian obelisks  transported  to  Constantinople.  Fragments  of  two 
of  these  monuments  have  been  found  in  Sicily,  at  Catania;  one 
of  them  has  eight  sides,  but  it  is  probably  not  a  genuine  Egyp- 
tian work.  The  use  of  the  obelisk  as  a  gnomon,  and  the  erec- 
tion of  it  on  a  high  base  in  the  center  of  an  open  space,  were  only 
introduced  on  the  removal  of  single  oblelisks  to  Rome. 


^m<^m  n  fiyTw^^jy- 


Mythology  is  from  the  word  myth,  meaning  fable,  it  is 
therefore  a  system  of  fabulous  opinions  and  doctrines  respecting 
the  deities  which  the  heathen  nations  have  supposed  to  preside 
over  the  world  or  to  influence  its  affairs. 

They  had  twelve  gods,  Jupiter,  Neptune,  Pluto,  Mercury, 
Mars,  Vulcan,  Apollo,  Diana,  Minerva,  Juno,  Ceres  and  Vesta. 
Besides  these  there  were  other  lesser  gods,  Bacchus,  Isis,  Hebe, 
the  Muses  and  the  Fates,  etc.;  also  Sleep,  Dreams  and  Death; 
and  there  were  still  others  who  had  free  will  and  intelligence, 
and  having  mixed  forms,  such  as  the  Pegasus,  or  winged  horse, 
the  Centaur,  half  man  and  half  horse.  Hydra,  etc. 

The  Greek  theory  of  the  origin  of  things  was  that  the 
beginning  was  chaos  laden  with  the  seed  of  all  nature,  then 
came  the  Earth  and  the  Heavens,  or  Uranus ;  these  two  were  mar- 
ried and  from  this  union  came  a  numerous  and  powerful  brood. 
First  were  the  six  Titans,  all  males,  and  then  the  six  females,  and 
the  Cyclops,  three  in  number;  these  latter  were  of  gigantic  size, 
having  but  one  eye,  and  that  in  the  center  of  the  forehead.  They 
represented  Thunder,  Lightning  and  Fire,  or  the  rapid  flame. 

The  Titans  made  war  upon  their  father  and  wounded  him, 
and  from  the  drops  of  blood  which  flowed  from  the  wound  and 

485 


486  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

lell  upon  the  earth  sprang  the  Furies,  whose  names  signified 
"  Unceasing,"  "Envier,"  and  "  Blood- Avenger;"  and  the  Giants 
and  mclian  Nymphs,  and  from  the  blood  drops  which  fell  into  the 
sea  sprang  Venus,  the  goddess  of  love  and  beauty. 

The  }-oungest  and  bravest  son,  Saturn,  who  wounded  and 
dethroned  his  father,  was,  by  the  consent  of  his  brethren,  per- 
mitted to  reign  with  an  understanding  that  his  male  children 
should  all  be  destroyed.  But  his  wife,  Rhea,  hid  from  him  three 
of  her  sons,  Jupiter,  Neptune  and  Pluto,  who,  waging  a  ten-year 
war  against  their  father,  finally  dethroned  him  and  divided  the 
kingdom  among  themselves.  The  oldest,  Jupiter,  had  the 
heavens,  and  reigned  over  all  gods,  Neptune  over  the  sea,  and 
Pluto  the  lower  regions. 

Jupiter  then  built  his  courts  on  Mount  Olympos,  reigned 
supreme  god  over  heaven  and  earth;  he  was  called  the  father  of 
man  and  gods,  and  is  placed  at  the  head  of  the  entire  creation. 

He  is  generally  represented  as  majestic  in  appearance,  seated 
on  a  throne  with  a  sceptre  in  one  hand  and  thunderbolts  in  the 
other.  Jupiter  had  a  number  of  wives;  he  also  married  his  sister 
Juno,  who  was  the  queen  goddess.  Besides  Jupiter,  Juno,  Nep- 
^'ine  and  Pluto  the  other  eight  gods  were  the  children  of  Jupiter. 

Neptune  was  second  to  Jupiter  in  power.  He  is  represented 
as  carrying  a  trident  or  three-tined  fork,  with  which  he  strikes 
the  earth  and  shakes  it;  he  is  therefore  often  called  the  "earth- 
shaker."  He  is  usually  represented  like  Jupiter,  of  a  serene  and 
majestic  aspect,  seated  in  a  chariot  made  of  shells  and  drawn  by 
dolphins  and  sea-horses,  while  the  Tritons  and  the  Nymphs  garn- 
bol  about  him. 

Pluto  is  represented  as  the  grim,  stern  ruler  over  hell.  He  is 
also  called  Hades  and  Orcus.  He  has  a  throne  of  sulphur,  from 
beneath  which  flows  the  Rivers  Lethe,  or  "  Oblivion,"  Phleg- 
ethon,  Cocytus  and  Acheron.  In  one  hand  he  holds  his  fork  and 
in   tlie  other   the  keys  of  hell,  and   beside  him   is   the   dog  with 


MYTHOLOGY. 


487 


three  heads.  He  is  described  as  being  well  qualified  for  his 
position,  being  inexorable  and  deaf  to  supplications,  and  an  ob- 
ject of  aversion  and  hatred  to  both  gods  and  men.  From  his 
realms  there  is  no  return,  and  all  mankind,  sooner  or  later,  are 
sure  to  be  gathered  into  his  kingdom. 

As  none  of  the  goddesses  would  marry  the  stern  and 
gloomy  god,  he  seized  Proserpine,  the  daughter  of  Ceres,  while 
she  was  gathering  flowers,  and  opened  the  earth  and  carried  her 
through  into  his  dominion. 

Mercury  was  the  messenger  and  ambassador  of  the  gods. 
He  was  represented  by  wings  on  his  hat,  and  sandals,  and  usually 
carrying  a  wand,  or  staff,  with  two  serpents  twined  around  it. 
He  himself  was  a  god  of  eloquence  and  the  patron  of  orators, 
merchants,  thieves,  robbers,  travelers  and  shepherds. 

Mars  was  the  god  of  war.  Sorrow  and  fear  accompanied 
him,  disorder  and  discord  in  tattered  garments  go  before  him 
and  anger  and  clamor  follow.  He  is  of  huge  size  and  gigantic 
strength,  and  his  voice  was  louder  than  those  of  ten  thousand 
mortals. 

Vulcan  was  the  forger,  and  is  generally  represented  at  an 
anvil  in  a  short  tunic,  with  a  hammer  in  his  right  hand.  He  was 
lame  when  he  was  born,  and  his  mother,  Juno,  was  so  shocked 
that  she  flung  him  headlong  from  the  Mt.  Olympos. 

Apollo  was  the  god  of  archery,  prophecy  and  music,  and 
is  usually  seen  with  a  harp  in  his  hand  and  of  beautiful  figure. 

Diana  was  the  goddess  of  chase,  and  appears  with  a  bow  in 
her  hand  and  a  quiver  of  arrows  at  her  back,  and  on  her  side  is 
a  hound.  She  devoted  herself  to  perpetual  celibacy,  and  her 
chief  joy  was  to  speed  like  a  Dorian  maid  over  the  hills,  followed 
by  a  train  of  nymphs  in  pursuit  of  the  flying  game. 

Minerva  is  the  goddess  of  wisdom  and  skill,  and  the  teacher 
in  warfare.  She  has  a  serious  and  thoughtful  countenance,  a 
spear  in  one  hand  and  a  shield  in  the  other,  while  a  helmet  covers 
her  head.      She  is  said  to  have  sprung  from  the  brains  of  Jupiter. 


^88  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

Juno,  the  wife  ot"  Jupiter,  was  haughty,  jealous  and  inexor- 
able; a  goddess  of  dignified  and  matronly  air,  often  found  with 
a  peacock  at  her  feet. 

Ceres  is  the  goddess  of  grain  and  harvest.  She  is  repre- 
sented riding  on  a  chariot  drawn  by  dragons,  and  distributing 
grain  to  the  different  regions  of  the  earth.  She  holds  in  one  hand 
eorn  and  wheat,  in  the  other  a  lighted  torch,  and  wears  on  her 
head  a  garland  of  wlicat  heads. 

After  Pluto  stole  her  daughter,  Proserpine,  she  searched  for 
her  throughout  the  whole  world. 

Vesta,  the  goddess  of  the  household  and  domestic  hearths, 
is  represented  in  a  long-flowing  robe,  with  a  veil  on  her  head,  a 
lamp  in  one  hand,  and  a  spear  or  javelin  in  the  other.  In  her 
temple  at  Rome,  the  sacred  fire  was  guarded  by  six  priestesses, 
called  the  W^stal  Virgins. 

Among  the  lesser  gods  there  were  many,  but  the  most  com- 
mon was  Bacchus,  who  was  the  god  of  lust,  wine,  and  the  patron 
of  drunkenness  and  debauchery,  tie  is  represented  as  an  eflem- 
inate  young  man,  with  long  flowing  hair.  In  one  hand  he  holds 
a  gobbet,  in  the  other  a  bunch  of  grapes  and  a  short  dagger. 

I'he  Muses  were  goddesses  who  presided  over  music  and 
poetry,  and  all  the  liberal  arts  and  sciences.  They  were  nine 
in  number. 

The  Graces  were  three  in  number,  and  personified  Splendor, 
Joy  and  Pleasure.  They  were  three  beautiful  sisters,  standing 
with  their  arms  entwined. 

The  Fates  were  also  three  goddesses,  who  presided  over  the 
destiny  of  mortals.  The  first  was  the  staft'  of  life,  the  second 
spun  the  cord,  and  the  third  cut  it  off. 

This  is  a  brief  outline  of  the  origin  and  nature  of  the  gods  and 
goddesses ;  and  the  legends  are  numerous,  and  some  of  them  are 
of  exceeding  interest  and  beauty,  while  others  shock  and  disgust 
us  by  the  gross  impossibilities  and  hideous  deformities  which  they 


MYTHOLOGICAL  CHARACTERS. 


489 


reveal.  We  have  concluded  to  give  a  direct  translation  of  them 
from  the  Greek,  so  that  the  reader  may  have  them  in  the  pure 
original  form,  and  thereby  have  not  only  the  beauty  and  inter- 
est retained,  but  at  the  same  time  an  idea  of  the  style  of  the 
ancient  writings;  only  a  few  stories  have  been  modified  to  bring 
them  nearer  to  the  level  of  the  rest.  We  will,  however,  be 
obliged  to  use  the  Greek  names  instead  of  the  Latin  in  this 
translation,  as  it  is  from  the  Greek,  and  will  therefore  give  the 
names  translated  below: 


Greek.  Latin. 

Zeus,  Jupiter. 

Here,  Juno. 

Poseidon,  Neptune. 

Plouton,  Pluto 

Demeter,  Ceres. 

Apollo,  Apolo. 


Greek.  Latin. 

Hephaistos,  Vulcan. 

Athene  MiNx^'^^a.. 

Ares,  Mars. 

Aphrodite,  Venus. 

Hermes,  Mercury. 

Hestia,  Vesta. 


Artemis,     Diana. 

The  most  of  the  Greek  people  appear  to  have  believed  that 
their  divinities  were  real  persons,  but  their  philosophers  explained 
the  legends  concerning  them  as  allegorical  representations  of 
general  physical  and  moral  truths.  The  Greeks,  therefore, 
instead  of  favoring  nature,  worshiped  the  powers  of  nature  per- 
sonified. 


THE  DELPHIAN  APOLLO. 


From  land  to  land  the  lady  Leto  wandered  in  fear  and  sor 
row,  for  no  city  or  country  would  give  her  a  home  where  she 
might  abide  in  peace.  From  Crete  to  Athens,  from  Athens  to 
yEgina,  from  ^gina  to  the  heights  of  Pelion  and  Athos,  through 
all  the  islands  of  the  wide  ^gsean  Sea,  Skyros  and  Imbros  and 
Lemnos,  and  Chios  the  fairest  of  all,  she  passed,  seeking  a  home. 


1QO  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

But  in  vain  she  pra\-cd  each  land  to  receive  her,  until  she  came 
to  the  Island  of  Delos,  and  promised  to  raise  it  to  great  glory  if 
onl>-  there  she  might  rest  in  peace.  And  she  lifted  up  her  voice 
and  said,  "  Listen  to  me,  O  island  of  the  dark  sea.  If  thou  wilt 
errant  me  a  home,  all  nations  shall  come  unto  thee,  and  great 
wealth  shall  flow  in  upon  thee;  for  here  shall  Phcebus  Apollo, 
the  lord  of  light  and  life,  be  born,  and  men  shall  come  hither  to 
know  his  will  and  win  his  favor."  Then  answered  Delos,  and 
said,  ''  Lady,  thou  promisest  great  things;  but  they  say  that  the 
power  of  Phcebus  Apollo  will  be  such  as  nothing  on  the  wide 
earth  may  withstand ;  and  mine  is  but  a  poor  and  stony  soil, 
where  there  is  little  to  please  the  eye  of  those  who  look  upon 
me.  Wherefore  I  fear  that  he  will  despise  my  hard  and  barren 
land,  and  go  to  some  other  country  where  he  will  build  a  more 
glorious  temple,  and  grant  richer  gifts  to  the  people  who  come 
to  worship  hmi."  But  Leto  swore  by  the  dark  water  of  Styx, 
and  the  wide  heaven  above,  and  the  broad  earth  around  her,  that 
in  Delos  should  be  the  shrine  of  Phoebus,  and  that  there  should 
the  rich  oflerings  burn  on  his  altar  the  whole  year  round. 

So  Leto  rested  in  the  Island  of  Delos,  and  there  was  Phcebus 
Apollo  born.  And  there  was  joy  among  the  undying  gods  who 
dwell  in  Olvmpos,  and  the  earth  laughed  beneath  the  smile  of 
heaven.  Then  was  his  temple  built  in  Delos,  and  men  came  to 
it  from  all  lands  to  learn  his  will  and  ofter  rich  sacrifices  on  his 
altar. 


THE   PYTHIAf^l  APOLLO. 

Long  time  Apollo  abode  in  Delos;  and  every  3'ear  all  the 
children  of  Ion  were  gathered  to  the  feast  which  was  held  before 
his  temple.  But  at  length  it  came  to  pass  that  Apollo  went 
through    many  lands,  journeying  towards   Pytho.     With  harp  in 


THE    PYTHIAN    APOLLO. 


^91 


hand  he  drew  nigh  to  the  gates  of  Olympos,  where  Zeus  and  the 
gods  dwell  in  their  glory;  and  straightway  all  rejoiced  for  the 
sweetness  of  his  harping.  The  Muses  sang  the  undying  gifts 
of  the  gods,  and  the  griefs  and  woes  of  mortal  men  who  can  not 
flee  from  old  age  and  death.  The  bright  Horai  joined  hands 
together  with  Hebe  and  Harmonia;  and  Ares  stood  by  the  side 
of  Aphrodite  with  Hermes  the  slayer  of  Argos,  gazing  on  the 
face  of  Phoebus  Apollo,  which  glistened  as  with  the  light  of  the 
new-risen  sun.  Then  from  Olympos  he  v/ent  down  into  the 
Pierian  land,  to  lolkos  and  the  Lelantian  plain;  but  it  pleased 
him  not  there  to  build  himself  a  home.  Thence  he  wandered 
on  to  Mykalessos,  and,  traversing  the  grassy  plains  of  Teumes- 
sos,  came  to  the  sacred  Thebes;  but  neither  would  he  dwell 
there,  for  no  rnan  had  yet  come  hither,  neither  was  there  road 
nor  path,  but  only  wild   forests  in  all  the  land. 

Further  and  further  he  roamed,  across  the  stream  of  Kephi- 
sos  and  beyond  Okalea  and  Haliartos,  until  he  came  to  Telphusa. 
There  he  thought  to  build  himself  a  temple,  for  the  land  was 
rich  and  fair,  so  he  said,  "  Beautiful 
Telphusa,  here  would  I  rest  in  thy  happy 
vale,  and  here  shall  men  come  to  ask  my 
will  and  seek  for  aid  in  the  hour  of  fear; 
and  great  glory  shall  come  to  thee  while 
I  abide  in  th}'  land.''  But  Telphusa  was 
moved  with  anger  as  she  saw  Phcebus 
marking  out  the  place  for  his  shrine  and 
laying  its  foundations;  and  she  spake 
craftily  to  him,  and  said,  "  Listen  to  me, 
Phoebus  Apollo.  Thou  seekest  here  to 
have  a  home,  but  here  thou  canst  never 
rest  in  peace;  for  my  broad  plain  will 
tempt  men  to  the  strife  of  battle,  and  the  tramp  of  war- 
horses  shall  vex  the  stillness  of  thy  holy    temple.     Nay,    even 


JUPITER  (Zens) 


4Q2  RICLIGIOX    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

in  the  time  of  peace,  the  lowing  cattle  shall  come  in  crowds 
to  my  fountain,  and  the  tumult  will  grieve  thine  heart.  But  go 
thou  to  Krisa,  and  make  tor  thyself  a  home  in  the  hidden  clefts 
of  Parnassos,  and  thither  shall  men  hasten  with  their  gifts  from 
the  utmost  bounds  of  the  earth."  So  Apollo  believed  her  words, 
and  he  went  on  through  the  land  of  the  Phlegyes  until  he  came  to 
Krisa.  There  he  laid  the  foundations  of  his  shrine  in  the  deep 
cleft  of  Parnassos;  and  Trophonios  and  Agamedes,  the  children 
of  Ero-inos,  raised  the  wall.  There  also  he  found  the  mighty 
draixon  who  nursed  T3'phaon,  the  child  of  Here,  and  he  smote 
him,  and  said,  "  Rot  there  upon  the  ground,  and  vex  not  more 
the  children  of  men.  The  days  of  thy  life  are  ended,  neither 
can  Typhoeus  himself  aid  thee  now,  nor  Chimsera  of  the  evil 
name.  But  the  earth  and  the  burning  sun  shall  consume  and 
scorch  thv  body."  So  the  dragon  died,  and  his  body  rotted  on 
the  ground;  wherefore  the  name  of  the  place  is  called  Pytho, 
and  they  worship  Phoebus  Apollo  as  the  great  Pythian  king. 

But  Phoebus  knew  now  that  Telphusa  had  deceived  him, 
because  she  said  nothing  of  the  great  dragon  of  Krisa,  or  of  the 
roughness  of  the  land.  So  he  hastened  back  in  his  answer  and 
said,  "  Thou  hast  beguiled  me,  Telphusa,  with  thy  crafty  words; 
but  no  more  shall  thy  fountain  send  forth  its  sweet  water,  and 
the  glory  shall  be  mine  alone."  Then  Apollo  hurled  great  crags 
down  and  choked  the  stream  near  the  beautiful  fountain,  and  the 
glory  departed  from  Telphusa. 

Then  he  thought  within  himself  what  men  he  should  choose 
to  be  his  priests  at  Pytho;  and  far  awa}-,  as  he  stood  on  the  high 
hill,  he  saw  a  ship  sailing  on  the  wine-faced  sea,  and  the  men 
who  were  in  it  were  Cretans,  sailing  from  the  land  of  King 
Minos  to  barter  their  goods  with  the  men  of  Pylos.  So  Phcebus 
leaped  into  the  sea,  and  changed  his  form  to  the  form  of  a  dol- 
phin, and  hastened  to  meet  the  ship.  None  knew  whence  the 
great    fish   came  which   smote   the  side   of   their  vessel  with   its 


PHCEBUS    APOLLO. 


493 


mighty  fins;  but  all  marveled  at  the  sight,  as  the  dolphin 
guided  the  ship  through  the  dark  waters,  and  they  sat  trembling 
with  fear,  as  they  sped  on  without  a  sail  by  the  force  of  the 
strong  south  wind.  From  the  headland  of  Malea  and  the  land  of 
the  Lakonians  they  passed  to  Helos  and  to  Taenaron  where  Helios 
dwells,  in  whom  the  sons  of  men  take  delight,  and  where  his  cat- 
tle feed  in  the  rich  pastures.  There  the  sailors  would  have  ended 
their  wanderings;  but  they  sought  in  vain  to  land,  for  the  ship 
would  not  obey  its  helm.  Onward  it  went  along  the  coast  of 
the  Island  of  Pelops,  for  the  mighty  dolphin  guided  it.  So  from 
Arene  and  Arguphea  it  came  to  the  sandy  Pylos,  by  Chalkis 
and  Dyme  to  the  land  of  the  Epeians,  to  Pherai  and  to  Ithaka. 
There  the  men  saw  spread  out  before  them  the  waters  which 
wash  the  shores  of  Krisa;  and  the  strong  west  wind  came  with 
its  fierce  breath,  and  drove  them  off  to  the  east  and  towards  the 
sunrising  until  they  came  to  Krisa. 

Then  Phcebus  Apollo  came  forth  from  the  sea,  like  a  star, 
and  the  brightness  of  his  glory  reached  up  to  the  high  heaven. 
Into  his  shrine  he  hastened,  and  on  the  altar  he  kindled  the  undy- 
ing fire,  and  his  bright  arrows  were  hurled  abroad,  till  all  Krisa 
was  filled  with  the  blaze  of  his  lightnings,  so  that  fear  came  upon 
all,  and  the  cries  of  the  women  rose  shrill  on  the  sultry  air.  Then, 
swift  as  a  thought  of  the  heart,  he  hastened  back  to  the  ship;  but 
his  form  was  now  the  form  of  a  man  in  his  beauty,  and  his  golden 
locks  flowed  over  his  broad  shoulders.  From  the  shore  he  called 
out  to  the  men  in  the  Cretan  ship,  and  said  ''Who  are  ye,  stran- 
gers ?  and  do  ye  come  as  thieves  and  robbers,  bringing  terror  and 
sorrow  whithersoever  ye  may  go?  Why  stay  ye  thus,  tarrying 
in  your  ships,  and  seek  not  to  come  out  on  the  land.^  Surely  ye 
must  know  that  ail  who  sail  on  the  wide  sea  rejoice  when  their 
ship  comes  to  the  shore,  that  they  rqay  come  forth  and  feast  with 
the  people  of  the  land?"  So  spake  Phoebus  Apollo;  and  the  leader 
of  the  Cretans  took  courage  and  said,  "'Stranger,  sure  I  am  that 


494 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


thou  art  no  mortal  man,  but  one  of  the  bright  heroes  or  the  und}'- 
ino-  o-ods.  Wherefore  tell  us  now  the  name  of  this  land  and  of  the 
people  who  dwell  in  it.  Hither  we  never  sought  to  come,  for  we 
were  sailing  from  the  land  of  Minos  to  barter  our  wares  at  Pylos; 
but  some  one  of  the  gods  hath  brought  us  hither  against  our 
will." 

Then  spake  tlie  mighty  Apollo,  and  said  to  them,  "  O,  stran- 
srers,  who  ha\-e  dwelt  in  Knossos  of  the  Cretan  land,  think  not  to 
return  to  your  ancient  home,  to  your  wives  or  to  your  children. 
Here  ve  must  guard  and  keep  m}'  shrine,  and  ye  shall  be  honored 
of  all  the  children  of  men.  For  I  am  the  son  of  Zeus,  and  my 
name  is  Phoebus  Apollo.  It  was  I  who  brought  you  hither  across 
the  wide  sea,  not  in  guile  or  anger,  but  that  in  all  time  to  come 
ve  may  ha\-e  great  power  and  glor}%  that  ye  may  learn  the  coun- 
sel of  the  undj'ing  gods  and  make  known  their  will  to  men. 
Hasten  then  to  do  my  bidding;  let  down  your  sails,  and  bring 
your  ship  to  the  shore.  Then  bring  out  your  goods,  and  build 
an  altar  on  the  beach,  and  kindle  a  fire,  and  offer  white  barley  as 
an  oflering;  and  because  I  led  you  hither  under  the  form  of  a  dol- 
phin, so  worship  me  as  the  Delphian  god.  Then  eat  bread  and 
drink  wine,  as  much  as  your  soul  may  lust  after;  and  alter  that 
come  with  me  to  the  holy  place,  where  ye  shall  guard  my  tem- 
ple." 

So  they  obeyed  the  words  of  Phoebus;  and  when  they  had 
offered  the  white  barlew  and  feasted  richly  on  the  sea-shore,  they 
arose  to  go,  and  Apollo  led  them  on  their  way.  His  harp  was  in 
his  hand,  and  he  made  sweet  music,  such  as  no  mortal  ear  had 
heard  before ;  and  they  raised  the  chant  lo  Psean,  for  a  new  power 
was  breathed  into  their  hearts,  as  they  went  along.  They  thought 
not  now  of  toil  or  sorrow;  but  with  feet  unwearied  they  went  up 
the  hill  until  they  reached  the  clefts  of  Parnassos,  where  Phcebus 
would  have  them  dwell. 

Then  out  spake  the  leader  of  the  Cretans,  and  said,  boldly, 


PHCEBUS    APOLLO. 


495 


"  O  king,  thou  hast  brought  us  far  away  from  our  homes  to  a 
strange  land;  whence  are  we  to  get  food  here?  No  harvest  will 
grow  on  these  bare  rocks,  no  meadows  are  spread  out  before  our 
eyes.  The  whole  land  is  bare  and  desolate."  But  the  son  Oi" 
Zeus  smiled  and  said,  "O  foolish  men,  and  easy  to  be  cast  down, 
if  ye  had  your  wish  ye  would  gain  nothing  but  care  and  toil. 
But  listen  to  me  and  ponder  well  my  words.  Stretch  forth 
your  hands  and  slay  each  day  the  rich  offerings,  for  they 
shall  come  to  you  with- 
out stint  and  sparing, 
seeing  that  the  sons  of 
men  shall  hasten  hither 
from  all  lands,  to  learn 
my  will  and  ask  for  aid 
in  the  hour  of  fear.  Only 
guard  ye  my  temple 
well,  and  keep  your 
hands  clean  and  your 
hearts  pure;  for  if  ye 
deal  rightly  no  man  shall 
take  away  your  glory; 
but  if  ye  speak  lies  and 
do  iniquity,  if  ye  hurt 
the  people  who  come  to 
my  altar,  and  make 
them  to  go  astray,  then 
shall  other  men  rise  up 
in    3'our   place,    and   ye 

yourselves   shall    be  apollo.     {From  an  ancient  Sculpture.) 

thrust  out  forever,  because  ye  would  not  obey  my  words. '' 


AQ^  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

NIOBE  AND   LETO. 

In  the  little  Island  of  Delos  there  lived  a  long  time  ago  a  lady 
who  was  called  Niobe.  She  had  many  sons  and  many  daughters, 
and  she  was  very  proud  of  them,  for  she  thought  that  in  all  the 
Island  of  Delos,  and  even  in  all  the  w^orld,  there  were  no  children 
so  beautiful  as  her  own.  And  as  they  walked,  and  leaped,  and 
ran  among  the  hills  and  valleys  of  that  rocky  island,  all  the  peo- 
ple looked  at  them,  and  said,  "Surely  there  are  no  other  children 
like  the  children  of  the  lady  Niobe."  And  Niobe  was  so  pleased 
at  hearing  this,  that  she  began  to  boast  to  every  one  how  strong 
and  beautiful  her  sons  and  daughters  were. 

Now  in  this  Island  of  Delos  there  lived  also  the  lady  named 
Leto.  She  had  only  two  children,  and  their  names  were  Arte- 
mis and  Phoebus  Apollo;  but  they  were  very  strong  and  fair, 
indeed.  And  whenever  the  lady  Niobe  saw  them,  she  tried  to 
think  that  her  own  children  were  still  more  beautiful,  although 
she  could  hardly  help  feeling  that  she  had  never  seen  any  so  glo- 
rious as  Artemis  and  Apollo.  So  one  day  the  lady  Leto  and  the 
lady  Niobe  were  together,  and  their  children  were  playing  before 
them;  and  Phoebus  Apollo  played  on  his  golden  harp,  and  then 
he  shot  from  his  golden  bow  the  arrows  which  never  missed  their 
mark.  But  Niobe  never  thought  of  Apollo's  bow,  and  the 
arrows  which  he  had  in  his  quiver;  and  she  began  to  boast  to  the 
lady  Leto  of  the  beauty  of  her  children,  and  said,  "See,  Leto; 
look  at  my  seven  sons  and  my  seven  daughters,  and  see  how 
strong  and  fair  they  are.  Apollo  and  Artemis  are  beautiful,  I 
know,  but  my  children  are  fairer  still;  and  you  have  only  two 
children  while  I  have  seven  sons  and  seven  daughters."  So  Niobe 
went  on  boasting,  and  never  thought  whether  she  should  make 
Leto  angry.  But  Leto  said  nothing  until  Niobe  and  her  children 
were  gone,  and  then  she  called  Apollo,  and  said  to  him,  "I  do  not 


NIOBE    AND    LETO.  497 

love  the  lady  Niobe.  She  is  always  boasting  that  her  sons  and 
daughters  are  more  beautiful  than  you  and  your  sister;  and  I  wish 
you  to  show  her  that  no  one  else  is  so  strong  as  my  children,  or 
so  beautiful."  Then  Phoebus  Apollo  was  angry,  and  a  dark  frown 
came  upon  his  fair  young  face,  and  his  eyes  were  like  the  flaming 
fire.  But  he  said  nothing,  and  he  took  his  golden  bow  in  his 
hand,  and  put  his  quiver  with  his  terrible  arrows  across  his 
shoulder,  and  went  away  to  the  hills  where  he  knew  that  the  lady 
Niobe  and  her  children  were.  And  when  he  saw  them  he  went 
and  stood  on  a  bare  high  rock,  and  stretched  the  string  of  his 
golden  bow,  and  took  an  arrow  from  his  quiver.  Then  he  held 
out  the  bow,  and  drew  the  string  to  his  breast,  until  the  point  of 
the  arrow  touched  the  bow;  and  then  he  let  the  arrow  fly. 
Straight  to  its  mark  it  went,  and  one  of  the  lady  Niobe's  sons 
fell  dead.  Then  another  arrow  flew  swiftly  from  the  bow,  and 
another,  and  another,  and  another,  till  all  the  sons  and  all  the 
daughters  of  Niobe  lay  dead  on  the  hillside.  Then  Apollo 
called  out  to  Niobe,  and  said,  "  Go  and  boast  now  of  3'Our  beauti- 
ful children!  " 

It  had  all  passed  so  quickly  that  Niobe  scarcely  knew 
whether  it  was  not  a  dream.  She  could  not  believe  that  her 
children  were  really  gone — all  her  sons  and  all  her  daughters, 
whom  she  had  just  now  seen  so  happy  and  strong  around  her. 
But  there  they  lay,  still  and  cold,  upon  the  ground.  Their  eyes 
were  closed  as  if  the}^  were  asleep,  and  their  faces  had  still  a 
happy  smile,  which  made  them  look  more  beautiful  t'^an  ever. 
And  Niobe  went  to  them  all  one  by  one,  and  touched  their  cold 
hands,  and  kissed  their  pale  cheeks;  and  then  she  knew  that  the 
arrows  of  Phoebus  Apollo  had  killed  them.  Then  she  sat  down 
on  a  stone  which  was  close  to  them,  and  the  tears  flowed  from 
her  eyes,  and  they  streamed  down  her  face,  as  she  sat  there  as 
still  as  her  children  who  lay  dead  before  her.  She  never  raised 
her  head  to  look  at  the  blue  sky — she  never  moved  hand  or  foot, 
32 


498  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

but  she  sat  weeping  on  the  cold  rock  until  she  became  as  cold  as 
the  rock  itself.  And  still  her  tears  flowed  on,  and  still  her  body 
grew  colder  and  colder,  until  her  heart  beat  no  more,  and  the 
lady  Niobe  was  dead.  But  there  she  still  seemed  to  sit  and 
weep,  for  her  great  grief  had  turned  her  into  a  stone;  and  all  the 
people,  whenever  they  came  near  that  place,  said,  "  See,  there 
sits  the  lady  Niobe,  who  was  turned  into  stone,  when  Phoebus 
Apollo  killed  all  her  children,  because  she  boasted  that  no  one 
was  so  beautiful  as  they  were."  And  long  after,  when  the  stone 
was  grown  old  and  covered  with  moss,  the  people  still  thought 
the}'  could  see  the  form  of  the  lady  Niobe;  for  the  stone,  which 
did  not  look  much  like  the  form  of  a  woman  when  they  came 
near  to  it,  seemed  at  a  distance  just  as  though  Niobe  still  sat 
there,  weeping  for  her  beautiful  children  whom  Phoebus  Apollo 
slew. 


DAPHNE. 


In  the  ""'e  of  Tempe,  where  the  stream  of  Peneios  flows 
beneath  the  heights  of  Olympos  towards  the  sea,  the  beautiful 
Daphne  passed  the  days  of  her  happy  childhood.  Fresh  as  the 
earliest  morning,  she  climbed  the  crags  to  greet  the  first  rays  of 
the  rising  sun;  and  when  he  had  driven  his  fiery  horses  over  the 
sky,  she  watched  his  chariot  sink  behind  the  western  mountains. 
Over  hill  and  dale  she  roamed,  free  and  light  as  the  breeze  of 
spring.  Other  maidens  round  her  spoke  each  of  her  love,  but 
Daphne  cared  not  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  man,  though  many  a 
one  sought  her  to  be  his  wife. 

One  day  as  she  stood  on  the  slopes  of  Ossa  in  the  glow  of 
earl}'  morning,  she  saw  before  her  a  glorious  form.  The  light 
of  the  new-risen  sun  fell  on  his  face  with  a  golden  splendor,  and 
she  knew  that  it  was  Phoibus  Apollo.     Plastily  he  ran  towards 


DAPHNE. 


499 


her,  and  said,  "  I  have  found  thee,  Child  of  the  Morning.  Others 
thou  hast  cast  aside,  but  from  me  thou  canst  not  escape.  I  have 
sought  thee  long,  and  now  will  I  make  thee  mine."  But  the 
heart  of  Daphne  was  bold  and  strong;  and  her  cheek  flushed  and 
her  eye  sparkled  with  anger,  as  she  said,  "  I  know  neither  love 
nor  bondage.  I  live  free  among  the  streams  and  hills;  and  to 
none  will  I  yield  my  freedom."  Then  the  face  of  Apollo  grew 
dark  with  anger,  and  he  drew  near  to  seize  the  maiden;  but  swift 
as  the  wind  she  fled  away.  Over  hill  and  dale,  over  crag  and 
river,  the  feet  of  Daphne  fell  lightly  as  falling  leaves  in  autumn; 
but  nearer  yet  came  Phoebus  Apollo,  till  at  last  the  strength  of 
the  maiden  began  to  fail.  Then  she  stretched  out  her  hands,  and 
cried  for  help  to  the  lady  Demeter;  but  she  came  not  to  her  aid. 
Her  head  was  dizzy,  and  her  limbs  trembled  in  utter  feebleness 
as  she  drew  near  the  broad  river  which  gladdens  the  plains  of 
Thessaly,  till  she  almost  felt  the  breath  of  Phcebus,  and  her  robe 
was  almost  in  his  grasp.  Then,  with  a  wild  cry,  she  said, 
"Father  Peneios,  receive  thy  child,"  and  she  rushed  into  the 
stream,  whose  waters  closed  gently  over  her. 

She  was  gone;  Apollo  mourned  for  his  madness  in  chasing 
thus  the  free  maiden.  And  he  said,  "  I  have  punished  myself 
by  my  folly;  the  light  of  the  morning  is  taken  out  of  the  day. 
I  must  go  on  alone  till  my  journey  shall  draw  towards  its  end." 
Then  he  spake  the  word,  and  a  laurel  came  up  on  the  bank 
where  Daphne  had  plunged  into  the  stream;  and  the  green  bush 
with  its  thick  clustering  leaves  keeps  her  name  forever. 


KYf^EJNE. 


Among  the  valleys  and  hills  of  Thessaly,  Kyrene,  the  fair- 
armed  daughter  of  Hypseus,  wandered  free  as  the  deer  upon 
the  mountain  side.     Of  all  the  maidens  of  the  land,  there  was 


50C 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


none  to  vie  her  in  beauty;  neither  was  there  any  that  could  be 
matched  with  her  for  strength  of  arm  and  speed  of  foot.  She 
touched  not  the  loom  or  the  spindle;  she  cared  not  for  banquets 
with  those  who  revel  under  houses.  Her  feasts  were  spread  on 
the  green  grass,  beneath  the  branching  tree;  and  with  her  spear 
and  dagger  she  went  fearless  among  the  beasts  of  the  field,  or 
sought  them  out  in  their  dens. 

One  day  she  was  roaming  along  the  winding  banks  of 
Peneios,  when  a  lion  sprang  from  a  thicket  across  her  path. 
Neither  spear  nor  dagger  was  in  her  hand,  but  the  heart  of 
K}'rcne  knew  no  fear,  and  she  grappled  with  him  until  the  beast 
sank  wearied  at  her  feet.  She  had  conquered,  but  not  unseen, 
for  Phcebus  Apollo  had  watched  the  maiden  as  she  battled  with 
the  angry  lion;  and  straightway  he  called  the  wise  centaur 
Cheiron,  who  had  taught  him  in  the  days  of  his  youth.  "  Come 
forth,"  he  said,  "  from  thy  dark  cave,  and  teach  me  once  again, 
for  I  have  a  question  to  ask  thee.  Look  at  yonder  maiden,  and 
the  beast  which  lies  beaten  at  her  feet;  and  tell  me  (for  thou  art 
wise)  whence  she  comes,  and  what  name  she  bears.  Who  is 
she,  that  thus  she  wanders  in  these  lonely  valleys  without  fear 
and  without  hurt?  Tell  me  if  she  may  be  wooed  and  won." 
Then  Cheiron  looked  steadfastly  at  the  face  of  Phcebus,  and  a 
smile  passed  over  his  countenance  as  he  answered,  "  There  are 
hidden  keys  to  unlock  the  prison-house  of  love;  but  why  askest 
thou  me  of  the  maiden's  name  and  race — thou  who  knowest  the 
end  of  all  things,  and  all  the  paths  along  which  the  sons  of  men 
arc  journeying?  Thou  hast  counted  the  leaves  which  burst  forth 
in  the  spring-time,  and  the  grains  of  sand  which  the  wind  tosses 
on  the  river  bank,  or  b}'  the  sea  shore.  But  if  I  must  needs 
match  thee  in  suitable  wisdom,  then  listen  to  m}'  words.  The 
maiden  is  wooed  and  won  already;  and  thou  art  going  to  bear 
her  as  thy  bride  over  the  dark  sea,  and  place  her  in  golden  halls 
on  the  far-off  Libyan  land.     There  she  shall  have  a  home  rich  in 


KYRENE. 


501 


every  fruit  that  may  grow  up  from  the  earth;  and  there  shall 
thy  son  Aristaios  be  born,  on  whose  lips  the  bright  Horai  shall 
shed  nectar  and  ambrosia,  so  that  he  may  not  come  under  the 
doom  of  mortal  men." 

Then  Phoebus  Apollo  smiled  as  he  answered,  "Of  a  truth, 
Cheiron,  thou  deservest  thy  fame,  for  there  are  none  to  match 
with  thee  for  wisdom;  and  now  I  go  with  Kyrene  to  the  land  which 
shall  be  called  by  her  name,  and  where,  in  time  to  come,  her 
children  shall  build  great  and  mighty  cities,  and  their  name  shall 
be  spread  abroad  throughout  all  the  earth  for  strength  and 
wisdom. 

So  the  maiden  Kyrene  came  to  the  Libyan  land,  and  there 
Aristaios,  her  child,  was  born.  And  Hermes  carried  the  babe 
to  the  bright  Horai,  who  granted  him  an  endless  life;  and  he 
dwelt  in  the  broad  Libyan  plains,  tending  his  flocks,  and  bringing 
forth  rich  harvests  from  the  earth.  For  him  the  bees  wrought 
their  sweetest  honey;  for  him  the  sheep  gave  their  softest  wool; 
for  him  the  cornfields  waved  with  their  fullest  grain.  No  blight 
touched  the  grapes  which  his  hand  had  tended ;  no  sickness  vexed 
the  herds  which  fed  in  his  pastures.  And  they  who  dwelt  in  the 
land  said,  "  Strife  and  war  bring  no  such  gifts  as  these  to  the  sons 
of  men;  therefore  let  us  live  in  peace." 


HERMEg. 

Early  in  the  morning,  long  ago,  in  a  cave  of  the  great 
Kyllenian  hill,  lay  the  new-born  Hermes,  the  son  of  Zeus  and 
Maia.  The  cradle-clothes  were  scarcely  stirred  b}'  his  soft 
breathing,  while  he  slept  as  peacefully  as  the  children  of  mortal 
mothers.  But  the  sun  had  not  driven  his  fiery  chariot  half  over 
the  heaven,  when  the  babe  arose  from  his    sacred   cradle    and 


ro2  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

Stepped  forth  from  the  dark  cavern.  Before  the  threshold  a  tor- 
toise fed  lazily  on  the  grass ;  and  when  the  child  saw  it  he 
lauo-hed  merrily.  "Ah!  this  is  luck,  indeed,"  he  said;  "whence  hast 
thou  come,  pretty  creature,  with  thy  bright  speckled  shell  ?  Thou 
art  mine  now,  and  I  must  take  thee  into  my  cave.  It  is  better 
to  be  under  shelter  than  out  of  doors;  and  though  there  may  be 
some  use  in  thee  while  thou  livest,  it  will  comfort  thee  to  think 
that  thou  wilt  sing  sweetly  when  thou  art  dead."  So  the  child 
Hermes  took  up  his  treasure  in  both  arms,  and  carried  it  into  the 
cavern.  There  he  took  an  iron  probe,  and  pierced  out  the  life 
of  the  tortoise;  and  quick  as  thought,  he  drilled  holes  in  its 
shell,  and  lixed  in  them  reed-canes.  Then  across  the  shell  he 
fastened  a  piece  of  ox-hide,  and  with  seven  sheep-gut  cords  he 
finished  the  making  of  1 ';.  lyre.  Presently  he  struck  it  with 
the  bow,  and  a  wave  of  sweet  music  swelled  out  upon  the  air. 
Like  the  merry  songs  of  youths  and  maidens,  as  they  sport  in 
village  feasts,  rose  the  song  of  the  child  Hermes;  and  his  eyes 
laughed  slyly  as  he  sang  of  the  loves  of  Zeus  and  Maia,  and 
how  he  himself  was  born  of  the  mighty  race  of  the  gods. 
Still  he  sang  on,  tolling  of  all  that  he  saw  around  him  in  the 
home  of  the  nympli,  his  mother,  but  all  the  while,  as  he  sang, 
his  mind  was  pondering  on  other  things;  and  when  the  song 
was  ended,  he  went  forth  from  the  cave,  like  a  thief  in  the  night, 
on  his  wily  errand. 

The  sun  was  hastening  down  the  slope  of  heaven,  with  his 
chariot  and  horses  to  the  slow-rolling  stream  of  Ocean,  as  Hermes 
came  to  the  shadowy  hills  of  Pieria,  where  the  cattle  of  the  gods 
fed  in  their  large  pastures.  There  he  took  fifty  from  the  herd, 
and  made  ready  to  drive  them  to  the  Kyllenian  hill.  But  before 
him  lay  vast  plains  of  sand;  and,  therefore,  lest  the  track  of  the 
cattle  should  tell  the  tale  of  his  thieving,  he  drove  the  beasts  round 
about  by  crooked  paths,  until  it  seemed  as  though  they  had  gone 
to  the  place  from  whence  he  had  stolen  them.     He  had   taken 


HERMES. 


503 


PLUTO   AND   HIS    WIFE. 


good  care  that  his  own  footsteps  should  not  betray  him,  for  with 
branches  of  tamarisk  and  myrtle,  well  twisted  with  their  leaves, 
he  hastily  made  sandals,  and  sped  away  from  Pieria.  One  man 
alone  saw  him,  a  very  old  man, 
who  was  working  in  his  vineyard 
on  the  sunny  plain  of  Onchestos. 
To  him  Hermes  went  quickly,  and 
said,  "  Old  man,  thou  wilt  have 
plenty  of  wine  when  these  roots 
come  all  into  bearing  trim.  Mean- 
while keep  a  wise  head  on  thy 
crumpled  shoulders,  and  take  heed 
not  to  remember  more  than  may 
be  convenient." 

Onwards,  over  dark  hills,  and 
through  sounding  dells,  and  across  flowery  plains,  hastened  the 
child  Hermes,  driving  his  flock  before  him.  The  night  waxed 
and  waned,  and  the  moon  had  climbed  to  her  watchtower  in  the 
heaven,  when,  in  the  flush  of  early  morning,  Hermes  reached  the 
banks  of  the  great  Alpheian  stream.  Then  he  turned  his  herd 
to  feed  on  the  grassy  plain,  while  he  gathered  logs  of  wood,  and, 
rubbins"  two  sticks  together,  kindled  the  first  flame  that  burned 
upon  the  earth  where  dwell  the  sons  of  men.  The  smoke  went 
up  to  the  heaven,  and  the  flame  crackled  fiercely  beneath  it,  as 
Hermes  brought  forth  two  of  the  herd,  and,  tumbling  them  on 
their  back,  pierced  out  the  life  of  both.  Their  hides  he  placed  on 
the  hard  rock;  their  flesh  he  cut  up  into  twelve  portions;  and  so 
Hermes  hath  the  rig-ht  of  orderine:  all  sacrifices  which  the  children 
of  men  offer  to  the  undying  gods.  But  he  ate  not  of  the  flesh  or 
fat,  although  hunger  sorely  pressed  him;  and  he  burnt  the  bones 
in  the  fire,  and  tossed  his  tamarisk  sandals  into  the  swift  stream 
of  Alpheios.  Then  he  quenched  the  fire,  and  with  all  his  might 
trampled  down  the  ashes,  until  the  pale  moon  rose  up  again  in  the 


^04  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

sV^'  So  he  sped  on  his  way  to  Kyllene.  Neither  god  nor  man 
saw  him  as  he  went,  nor  did  the  dogs  bark.  Early  in  the  morn- 
ino-  he  reached  his  mother's  cave,  and  darted  through  the  keyhole 
of  the  door,  softly  as  a  summer  breeze.  Without  a  sound  his 
little  feet  paced  the  stony  floor,  till  he  reached  his  cradle  and  lay 
down,  playing  like  a  babe  among  the  clothes  with  his  left  hand, 
while  the  right  held  the   tortoise-lyre    hidden  underneath  them. 

But,  wily  as  he  was,  he  could  not  cheat  his  mother.  To  his 
cradle  she  came,  and  said,  "Whither  hast  thou  wandered  in  the 
dark  ni"-ht?  Crafty  rogue,  mischief  will  be  th}^  ruin.  The  son 
of  Leto  will  soon  be  here,  and  bear  thee  away  bound  in  chains 
not  easily  shaken  off".  Out  of  my  sight,  little  wretch,  born  to 
worry  the  blessed  gods  and  plague  the  race  of  men!  "  "Mother," 
said  Hermes,  gently,  "why  talk  thus  to  me,  as  though  I  were  like 
mortal  babes,  a  poor  cowering  thing,  to  cry  for  a  little  scolding.^ 
I  know  thy  interest  and  mine:  why  should  we  stay  here  in  this 
wretched  cave,  with  never  a  gift  nor  a  feast  to  cheer  our  hearts.'' 
I  shall  not  stay.  It  is  pleasanter  to  banquet  with  the  gods  than 
to  dwell  in  a  cavern  in  draughts  of  whistling  wind.  I  shall  try 
my  luck  against  Apollo,  for  I  mean  to  be  his  peer;  and  if  he  will 
not  suffer  me,  and  if  Zeus,  my  father,  take  not  up  my  cause,  I 
will  see  what  I  can  do  for  myself,  by  going  to  the  shrine  of  Pytho 
and  stealing  thence  the  tripods  and  caldrons,  the  iron  vessels  and 
glittering  robes.  If  I  may  not  have  honor  in  Olympos,  I  can  at 
least  be  the  prince  of  thieves." 

Meanwhile,  as  they  talked  together,  Eos  rose  up  from  the 
deep  ocean  stream,  and  her  tender  light  flushed  across  the  sky, 
while  Apollo  hastened  to  Onchestos  and  the  hoi}'  grove  of  Posei- 
don. There  the  old  man  was  at  work  in  his  vineyard,  and  to 
him  Phoebus  went  quickly,  and  said,  "  Friend  hedgcr,  I  am  come 
from  Picria  looking  for  my  cows.  Fift}'  of  them  have  been 
driven  away,  and  the  bull  has  been  left  behind  with  the  four  dogs 
who  guarded  them.     Tell  me,  old  man,  hast  thou  seen  any  one 


HERMES. 


505 


with  these  cows,  on  the  road?"  But  the  old  man  said  that  it 
would  be  a  hard  matter  to  tell  of  all  that  he  might  chance  to  see. 
"  Many  travelers  journey  on  this  road,  some  with  evil  thoughts, 
some  with  good;  I  can  not  well  remember  all.  This  only  I 
know,  that  yesterday,  from  the  rising  of  the  sun  to  its  setting,  I 
was  digging  in  my  vineyard,  and  I  think,  but  I  am  not  sure,  that 
I  saw  a  child  with  a  herd  of  cattle.  A  babe  he  was,  and  he  held 
a  staff  in  his  hand,  and,  as  he  went,  he  wandered  strangely  from 
the  path  on  either  side." 

Then  Phoebus  stayed  not  to  hear  more,  for  now  he  knew  of  a 
surety  that  the  new-born  son  of  Zeus  had  done  him  the  mischief. 
Wrapped  in  a  purple  mist,  he  hastened  to  beautiful  Pyios,  and 
came  on  the  track  of  the  cattle.  "  O  Zeus!"  he  cried,  "  this  is 
indeed  a  marvel.  I  see  the  footprints  of  cattle,  but  they  are 
marked  as  though  the  cattle  were  going  to  the  asphodel  meadow, 
not  away  from  it.  Of  man  or  woman,  of  wolf,  bear,  or  lion,  } 
spy  not  a  single  trace.  Only  here  and  there  I  behold  the  foot- 
prints of  some  strange  monster,  who  has  left  his  mark  at  random 
on  either  side  of  the  road."  So  on  he  sped  to  the  woody  heights 
of  Kyllene,  and  stood  on  the  doorstep  of  Malays  cave.  Straight- 
way the  child  Hermes  nestled  under  the  cradle-clothes  in  fear, 
like  a  new-born  babe  asleep.  But,  seeing  through  all  his  craft, 
Phcebus  looked  steadily  through  all  the  cave  and  opened  three 
secret  places  full  of  the  food  and  drink  of  the  gods,  and  full  also 
of  gold  and  silver  and  raiment;  but  not  a  cow  was  in  any  of 
them.  At  last  he  fixed  his  eyes  sternly  on  the  child,  and  said, 
"Wily  babe,  where  are  my  cows?  If  thou  wilt  not  tell  me, 
there  will  be  strife  between  us;  and  then  I  will  hurl  thee  down 
to  the  gloomy  Tartaros,  to  the  land  of  darkness,  whence  neither 
thy  father  nor  thy  mother  can  bring  thee  back,  and  where 
thy  kingdom  shall  be  only  over  the  ghosts  of  men."  "  Ah!" 
said  Hermes,  "  these  are  dreadful  words,  indeed;  but  why  dost 
thou  chide  me  thus,  or  come  here  to  look  for  cows?     I  have  not 


co6  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

seen  or  heard  ol"  them,  nor  has  any  one  told  me  of  them.  I  can 
not  tell  where  they  are,  or  get  the  reward,  if  any  were  promised, 
for  discovering  them.  This  is  no  work  of  mine;  what  do  I  care  for 
but  for  sleeping  and  sucking,  and  playing  with  my  cradle-clothes, 
and  being  washed  in  warm  water?  My  friend,  it  will  be  much 
better  that  no  one  should  hear  of  such  a  silly  quarrel.  The 
undying  gods  would  laugh  at  the  very  thought  of  a  little  babe 
leaving  its  cradle  to  run  after  cows.  I  was  born  but  yesterday. 
My  ieet  are  soft,  and  the  ground  is  hard.  But  if  it  be  any  com- 
fort to  thee,  I  will  swear  by  my  father's  head  (and  that  is  a  very 
great  oath)  that  I  have  not  done  this  deed,  nor  seen  any  one  else 
bteal  your  cows,  and  that  I  do  not  know  what  cows  are." 

As  he  spoke  he  looked  stealthily  from_  one  side  to  the  other, 
while  his  eyes  winked  slyl}',  and  he  made  a  long  soft  whistling 
sound,  as  if  the  w^ords  of  Phoebus  had  amused  him  mightil3\ 
"  Well,  friend,"  said  Apollo,  with  a  smile,  "  thou  wilt  break  into 
many  a  house,  I  see,  and  thy  followers  after  thee;  and  thy  fancy 
for  beef  will  set  many  a  herdsman  grieving.  But  come  down 
from  the  cradle,  or  this  sleep  will  be  thy  last.  Only  this  honor  can 
I  promise  thee,  to  be  called  the  prince  of  thieves  forever."  So 
without  more  ado  Phoebus  caught  up  the  babe  in  his  arms;  but 
Hermes  gave  so  mighty  a  sneeze  that  he  quickly  let  him  fall, 
and  Phoebus  said  to  him,  gravely,  "  This  is  the  sign  that  I  shall 
find  my  cows;  show  me,  then,  the  way."  In  great  fear  Hermes 
started  up  and  pulled  the  cradle-clothes  over  his  ears,  as  he  said, 
"  Cruel  god,  what  dost  thou  seek  to  do  with  me?  Why  worry 
me  thus  about  cows?  I  w^ould  there  were  not  a  cow  in  all  the 
earth.  I  stole  them  not,  nor  have  I  seen  any  one  steal  the  cows, 
whatever  things  cows  may  be.  I  know  nothing  but  their  name. 
But  come;   Zeus  must  decide  the  quarrel  between  us." 

Thus  each  with  his  own  purpose  spake  to  the  other,  and 
their  minds  grew  all  the  darker,  lor  Phoebus  sought  only  to  know 
where  his  cows   might   be,  while   Hermes  strove  only  to   cheat 


HERMES. 


507 


him.  So  they  went  quickly  and  sulkily  on,  the  babe  first,  and 
Phcebus  following  after  him,  till  they  came  to  the  heights  of 
Olympos  and  the  home  of  the  mighty  Zeus.  There  Zeus  sat  on 
the  throne  of  judgment,  and  all  the  undying  gods  stood  around 
him.  Before  them  in  the  midst  stood  Phcebus  and  the  child 
Hermes,  and  Zeus  said,  "  Thou  hast  brought  a  fine  booty  after 
thy  hunt  to-day,  Phoebus — a  child  of  a  day  old.  A  fine  matter 
is  this  to  put  before  the  gods." 

"  My  father,"  said  Apollo,  quickly,  "  I  have  a  tale  to  tell 
which  will  show  that  I  am  not  the  only  plunderer.  After  a 
weary  search  I  found  this  babe  in  the  cave  of  Kyllene;  and  a 
thief  he  is  such  as  I  have  never  seen  whether  among  gods  or 
men.  Yester  eve  he  stole  my  cattle  arom  the  meadow,  and 
drove  them  straight  towards  Pylos  to  the  shore  of  the  sounding 
sea.  The  tracks  left  were  such  that  gods  and  men  might  well 
marvel  at  them.  The  footprints  of  the  cows  on  the  sand  were 
as  though  they  were  going  to  my  meadows,  and  not  away  from 
them;  his  own  footmarks  beggar  all  words,  as  if  he  had  gone 
neither  on  his  feet  nor  on  his  hands,  and  as  if  the  oak  tops  had 
suddenly  taken  to  walking.  So  was  it  on  the  sandy  soil;  and 
after  this  was  passed,  there  remained  no  marks  at  all.  But  an 
old  man  saw  him  driving  them  on  the  road  to  Pylos.  There  he 
shut  up  the  cattle  at  his  leisure,  and,  going  to  his  mother's  cave, 
lay  down  in  his  cradle  like  a  spark  in  a  mass  of  cinders,  which 
an  eagle  could  scarcely  spy  out.  When  I  taxed  him  with  the 
theft  he  boldly  denied  it,  and  told  me  that  he  had  not  seen  the 
cows  or  heard  naught  of  them,  and  could  not  get  the  reward  if 
one  were  offered  for  restoring  them." 

So  the  words  of  Phcebus  were  ended,  and  the  child  Hermes 
made  obeisance  to  Zeus,  the  lord  of  all  the  gods,  and  said, 
*'  Father  Zeus,  I  shall  tell  thee  the  truth,  for  I  am  a  very  truth- 
ful being,  and  I  know  not  how  to  tell  a  lie.  This  morning,  when 
the  sun  was  but  newly  risen,  Phcebus  came  to  my  mother's  cave, 


co8  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

looking  lor  cows.  He  brought  no  witnesses;  but  urged  me  by 
force  to  confess;  he  threatened  to  hurl  me  into  the  abyss  of  Tar- 
taros.  Yet  he  lias  all  the  strength  of  early  manhood,  while  I,  as 
he  knows,  was  born  but  yesterday,  and  am  not  in  the  least  like 
a  cattle-reiver.  Believe  me  (by  thy  love  for  me,  thy  child)  that 
I  have  not  brought  these  cows  home,  or  passed  beyond  my 
mother's  threshold.  This  is  strict  truth.  Nay,  by  Helios  and 
the  other  gods,  I  swear  that  I  love  thee  and  have  respect  for 
Phcebus.  Thou  knowest  that  I  am  guiltless,  and,  if  thou  wilt,  I 
will  also  swear  it.  But,  spite  of  all  his  strength,  I  will  avenge 
mvself  some  day  on  Phoebus  for  his  unkindness;  and  then  help 
thou  the  weaker." 

So  spake  Hermes,  winking  his  eyes  and  holding  the  clothes 
to  his  shoulders;  and  Zeus  laughed  aloud  at  the  wiliness  of  the 
babe,  and  bade  Phcebus  and  the  child  be  friends.  Then  he  bowed 
his  head  and  charged  Hermes  to  show  the  spot  where  he  had 
hidden  the  cattle,  and  the  child  obeyed,  for  none  may  despise  that 
si2:n  and  live.  To  Pylos  they  hastened  and  to  the  broad  stream 
of  Alpheios,  and  from  the  fold  Hermes  drove  forth  the  cattle. 
But  as  he  stood  apart,  Apollo  beheld  the  hides  flung  on  the  rock, 
and  he  asked  Plermes,  "  How  wast  thou  able,  cunning  rogue,  to 
fla}^  two  cows,  thou  a  child  but  one  day  old  ?  I  fear  thy  might  in 
time  to  come,  and  I  can  not  let  thee  live."  Again  he  seized  the 
child,  and  bound  him  fast  with  willow  bands;  but  the  child  tore 
them  from  his  body  like  flax,  so  that  Phoebus  marveled  greatly. 
In  vain  Hermes  sought  a  place  wherein  to  hide  himself,  and  great 
fear  came  upon  him  till  he  thought  of  his  tortoise-lyre.  With 
his  bow  he  touched  the  strings,  and  the  wave  of  song  swelled  out 
upon  the  air  more  full  and  sweet  than  ever.  He  sang  of  the  un- 
dying gods  and  the  dark  earth,  how  it  was  made  at  the  first,  and 
how  to  each  of  the  gods  his  own  appointed  portion  was  given, 
till  the  heart  of  Apollo  was  filled  with  a  mighty  longing,  and  he 
spake  to  Hermes,  and  said,  "Cattle-reiver,  wily  rogue,  thy  song 


HERMES. 


509 


is  worth  fifty  head  of  cattle.  We  will  settle  our  strife  by  and 
by.  Meanwhile,  tell  me,  was  this  wondrous  gift  of  song  born 
with  thee,  or  hast  thou  it  as  a  gift  from  any  god  or  mortal  man.^ 
Never  on  Olympos,  from  those  who  can  not  die,  have  I  heard  such 
strains  as  these.  They  who  hear  thee  may  have  what  they  will, 
be  it  mirth,  or  love,  or  sleep.  Great  is  thy  power,  and  great 
shall  be  thy  renown,  and  by  my  cornel  staff  I  swear  that  I  will 
not  stand  in  the  way  of  thy  honor  or  deceive  thee  in  anywise." 

Then  said  Hermes,  "  I  grudge  thee  not  my  skill,  son  of 
Leto,  for  I  seek  but  thy  friendship.  Yet  thy  gifts  from  Zeus  are 
great.  Thou  knowest  his  mind,  thou  canst  declare  his  will,  and 
reveal  what  is  stored  up  in  time  to  come  for  undying  gods  or 
mortal  men.  This  knowledge  I  fain  would  have.  But  my  power 
of  song  shall  this  day  be  thine.  Take  my  lyre,  the  soother  of 
the  wearied,  the  sweet  companion  in  hours  of  sorrow  or  of 
feasting.  To  those  who  come  skilled  in  its  language,  it  can  dis- 
course sweetly  of  all  things,  and  drive  away  all  thoughts  that 
annoy  and  cares  that  vex  the  soul.  To  those  who  touch  it,  not 
knowing  how  to  draw  forth  its  speech,  it  will  babble  strange 
nonsense,  and  rave  with  uncertain  moanings.  But  thy  knowledge 
is  born  with  thee,  and  so  my  lyre  is  thine.  Wherefore  now  let 
us  feed  the  herds  together,  and  with  our  care  they  shall  thrive 
and  multipl}^     There  is  no  more  cause  for  anger." 

So  saying  the  babe  held  out  the  lyre,  and  Phoebus  Apollo 
took  it.  In  his  turn  he  gave  to  the  child  Hermes  a  glittering 
scourge,  with  charge  over  his  flocks  and  herds.  Then,  touching 
the  chords  of  the  lyre,  he  filled  the  air  with  sweet  music,  and 
they  both  took  their  way  to  Olympos,  and  Zeus  was  glad  at 
heart  to  see  that  the  wrath  of  Apollo. had  passed  away.  But 
Phcebus  dreaded  3'et  the  wiles  of  Hermes,  and  said,  "  I  fear  me 
much,  child  of  Maia,  that  in  time  to  come  thou  mayest  steal  both 
my  harp  and  my  bow,  and  take  away  my  honor  among  men. 
Come    now,    and    swear    to    me    by   the   dark   water    of    Styx 


-lO  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

that  thou  wilt  never  do  me  wrong."  Then  Hermes  bowed  his 
head,  and  swore  never  to  steal  anything  from  Apollo,  and  never 
to  lav  hands  on  his  holy  shrine;  and  Phcebus  swore  that  of  all 
the  undying  gods  there  should  be  none  so  dear  to  him  as  Hermes. 
"And  of  this  love,"  he  said,  "I  will  give  thee  a  pledge.  My 
o-olden  rod  shall  guard  thee,  and  teaeh  thee  all  that  Zeus  may 
say  to  me  for  the  well  or  ill-doing  of  gods  or  men.  But  the 
hicjher  knowledge  for  which  thou  didst  pray  may  not  be  thine; 
for  that  is  hidden  in  the  mind  of  Zeus,  and  I  have  sworn  a  great 
oath  that  none  shall  learn  it  from  me.  But  the  man  who  comes 
to  me  with  true  signs,  I  will  never  deceive;  and  he  who  puts 
trust  in  false  omens  and  then  comes  to  inquire  at  my  shrine,  shall 
be  answered  according  to  his  folly,  but  his  offering  shall  go  into 
ni}'  treasure-house.  Yet  further,  son  of  Maia,  in  the  clefts  of 
Parnassos  far  away  dwell  the  winged  Thriai,  who  taught  me  long 
ago  the  secret  things  of  times  to  come.  Go  thou,  then,  to  the 
three  sisters,  and  thus  shalt  thou  test  them.  If  they  have  eaten 
of  the  honeycomb  before  they  speak,  they  will  answer  thee  truly; 
but  if  they  lack  the  sweet  food  of  the  gods,  they  will  seek  to  lead 
astray  those  who  come  to  them.  These  I  give  thee  for  thy 
counselors;  only  follow  them  warily;  and  have  thou  dominion 
over  all  flocks  and  herds,  and  over  all  living  things  that  feed  on 
the  wide  earth;  and  be  thou  the  guide  to  lead  the  souls  of  mortal 
men  to  the  dark  kingdom  of  Hades." 

So  was  the  love  of  Apollo  for  Hermes  made  sure;  and 
Hermes  hath  his  place  amongst  all  the  deathless  gods  and  dying 
men.  Nevertheless,  the  sons  of  men  have  from  him  no  great 
gain,  for  all  night  long  he  vexes  them  with  his  treacherous  wiles. 


THE  BORROW  OF   DEMETER. 

In  the  fields  of  Enna,  in  the  happy  Island  of  Sicily,  the  beau- 
tiful i^ersephone  was  playing  with  the  girls  who  lived  there  with 


THE  SORROW  OF  DEMETER. 


511 


her.  She  was  the  daughter  of  the  lady  Demeter,  and  every  one 
loved  them  both,  for  Demeter  was  good  and  kind  to  all,  and  no 
one  could  be  more  gentle  and  merry  than  Persephone.  She  and 
her  companions  were  gathering  flowers  from  the  field,  to  make 
crowns  for  their  long  flowing  hair.  They  had  picked  man}/  roses 
and  lilies  and  hyacinths,  which  grew  in  clusters  around  them, 
when  Persephone  thought  she  saw  a  splendid  flower  far  off*;  and 
away  she  ran,  as  fast  as  she  could,  to  get  it.  It  was  a  beautiful 
narcissus,  with  a  hundred  heads  springing  from  one  stem;  and 
the  perfume  which  came  from  its  flowers  gladdened  the  broad 
heaven  above,  and  the  earth  and  sea  around  it.  Eagerly  Perse- 
phone stretched  out  her  hand  to  take  this  splendid  prize,  when 
the  earth  opened,  and  a  chariot  stood  before  her,  drawn  by  four 
coal-black  horses;  and  in  the  chariot  there  was  a  man  with  a  dark 
and  solemn  face,  which  looked  as  though  he  could  never  smile, 
and  as  though  he  had  never  been  happy.  In  a  moment  he  got 
out  of  his  chariot,  seized  Persephone  round  the  waist,  and  put 
her  on  the  "Seat  by  his  side.  Then  he  touched  the  horses  with 
his  whip,  and  they  drew  the  chariot  down  into  the  great  gulf, 
and  the  earth  closed  over  them  again. 

Presently  the  girls  who  had  been  playing  with  Persephone 
came  up  to  the  place  where  the  beautiful  narcissus  was  growing; 
but  they  could  not  see  her  anywhere.  And  the}'  said,  "  Here  is 
the  very  flower  which  she  ran  to  pick,  and  there  is  no  place  here 
where  she  can  be  hiding,"  Still  for  a  long  time  they  searched 
through  the  fields  of  Enna ;  and  when  the  evening  was  come  they 
went  home  to  tell  the  lady  Demeter  that  they  could  not  tell  what 
had  become  of  Persephone. 

Very  terrible  was  the  sorrow  of  Demeter  when  she  was 
told  that  her  child  was  lost.  She  put  a  dark  robe  on  her  shoul- 
ders, and  took  a  flaming  torch  in  her  hand,  and  went  over  land 
and  sea  to  look  for  Persephone.  But  no  one  could  tell  her 
where   she  was  gone.      When  ten   days   were  passed   she  met 


51 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


Hekate,  and  asked  her  about  her  chikl ;  but  Hekate  said,  "  I 
heard  her  voice,  as  she  cried  out  when  some  one  seized  her;  but 
f  did  not  see  it  with  my  eyes,  and  so  I  know  not  where  she  is 


CEKES  {or  Demeter,  from  Pompeii  ^Vall  Painting). 

gone.'"  Then  she  went  to  Ilelios,  and  said  to  him,  "  O  HeHos, 
tell  me  about  my  cliikl.  Thou  seest  cver3'thing  on  the  earth, 
sitting  in  the  bright  sun.''  Then  Hehos  said  to  Demeter,  "  I 
pity  thee  for  thy  great  sorrow,  and  I  will  tell  thee  the  truth.     It 


THE    SORROW    OF    DEMETER.  513 

is  Hades  who  has  taken  away  Persephone   to  be  his  wife  in  the 
dark  and  gloomy  land  which  lies  beneath  the  earth." 

Then  the  rage  of  Demeter  was  more  terrible  than  her  sor- 
row had  been;  and  she  would  not  stay  in  the  palace  of  Zeus,  on 
the  o-reat  Thessalian  hill,  because  it  was  Zeus  who  had  allowed 
Hades  to  take  away  Persephone.  So  she  went  down  from 
Olympos,  and  wandered  on  a  long  way  until  she  came  to  Eleu- 
sis,  just  as  the  sun  was  going  down  into  his  golden  cup  behind 
the  dark  blue  hills.  There  Demeter  sat  down  close  to  a  foun- 
tain, where  the  water  bubbled  out  from  the  green  turf  and  fell 
into  a  clear  basin,  over  which  some  dark  olive  trees  spread  their 
branches.  Just  then  the  daughters  of  Keleos,  the  king  of  Eleu- 
sis,  came  to  the  fountain  with  pitchers  on  their  heads  to  draw 
water;  and  when  they  saw  Demeter,  they  knew  from  her  face 
that  she  must  have  some  great  grief;  and  they  spoke  kindly  to 
her,  and  asked  if  they  could  do  anything  to  help  her.  Then  she 
told  them  how  she  had  lost  and  was  searching  for  her  child;  and 
they  said,  "  Come  home  and  live  with  us;  and  our  father  and 
mother  will  give  you  everything  that  you  can  want,  and  do  all 
that  they  can  to  soothe  your  sorrow."  So  Demeter  went  down 
to  the  house  of  Keleos,  and  she  stayed  there  for  a  whole  year. 
And  all  this  time,  although  the  daughters  of  Keleos  were  very 
gentle  and  kind  to  her,  she  went  on  mourning  and  weeping  for 
Persephone.  She  never  laughed  or  smiled,  and  scarcely  ever 
did  she  speak  to  any  one,  because  of  her  great  grief.  And  even 
the  earth,  and  the  things  which  grow  on  the  earth,  mourned  for 
the  sorrow  which  had  come  upon  Demeter.  There  was  no  fruit 
upon  the  trees,  no  corn  came  up  in  the  fields,  and  no  flowers 
blossomed  in  the  gardens.  And  Zeus  looked  down  from  his 
high  Thessalian  hill,  and  sav/  that  everything  must  die  unless  he 
could  soothe  the  grief  and  anger  of  Demeter.  So  he  sent 
Hermes  down  to  Hades,  the  dark  and  stern  king,  to  bid  him 
send  Persephone  to  see  her  mother,  Demeter.     But  before  Hades 

33 


CIA  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

let  her  ^o  he  gave  her  a  pomegraiiate  to  eat,  because  he  did  not 
wish  her  to  stay  away  irom  him  always,  and  he  knew  that  she 
must  come  back  if  she  tasted  but  one  of  his  pomegranate  seeds. 
Then  the  great  chariot  was  brought  before  the  door  of  the 
palace,  and  Hermes  touched  with  his  whip  the  coal-black  horses, 
and  away  they  went  as  swiftly  as  the  wind,  until  they  came  close 
to  Eleusis.  Then  Hermes  left  Persephone,  and  the  coal-black 
horses  drew  the  chariot  away  again  to  the  dark  home  of  King 
Hades. 

The  sun  was  sinking  down  in  the  sky  when  Hermes  left 
Persephone,  and  as  she  came  near  to  the  fountain  she  saw  some 
one  sitting  near  it  in  a  long  black  robe,  and  she  knew  that  it 
must  be  her  mother  who  still  wept  and  mourned  for  her  child. 
And  as  Demeter  heard  the  rustling  of  her  dress,  she  lifted  up 
her  face,  and  Persephone  stood  before  her. 

Then  the  joy  of  Demeter  was  greater,  as  she  clasped  her 
daughter  to  her  breast,  than  her  grief  and  her  sorrow  had  been. 
Again  and  again  she  held  Persephone  in  her  arms,  and  asked  her 
about  all  that  had  happened  to  her.  And  she  said,  "  Now  that 
you  are  come  back  to  mc,  I  shall  never  let  you  go  away  again; 
Hades  shall  not  have  my  child  to  live  with  him  in  his  dreary 
kingdom."  But  Persephone  said,  "  It  may  not  be  so,  my 
mother;  1  can  not  stay  with  you  always;  for  before  Hermes 
brought  me  away  to  see  you,  Hades  gave  me  a  pomegranate, 
and  I  have  eaten  some  of  the  seeds;  and  after  tasting  the  seed  I 
must  go  back  to  him  again  when  six  months  have  passed  by. 
And,  indeed,  I  am  not  afraid  to  go,  for  although  Hades  never 
smiles  or  laughs,  and  everything  in  his  palace  is  dark  and 
gloomy,  still  he  is  very  kind  to  me,  and  I  think  that  he  feels 
almost  happy  since  I  have  been  his  wife.  But  do  not  be  sorry, 
my  mother,  for  he  has  promised  to  let  me  come  up  and  stay  with 
you  for  six  months  in  every  year,  and  the  other  six  months  I 
must  spend  with  him  in  the  land  which  lies   beneath  the  earth." 


THE    SORROW    OF    DEMETER.  515 

So  Demeter  was  comforted  for  her  daughter  Persephone, 
and  the  earth  and  all  the  things  that  grew  in  it  felt  that  her 
anger  and  sorrow  had  passed  away.  Once  more  the  trees  bore 
their  fruits,  the  flowers  spread  out  their  sweet  blossoms  in  the 
garden,  and  the  golden  corn  waved  like  the  sea  under  the  soft 
summer  breeze.  So  the  six  months  passed  happily  away,  and 
then  Hermes  came  with  his  coal-black  horses  to  take  Persephone 
to  the  dark  land.  And  she  said  to  her  mother,  "  Do  not  weep 
much ;  the  gloomy  king  whose  wife  I  am  is  so  kind  to  me  that  I 
can  not  be  really  unhappy,  and  in  six  months  more  he  will  let 
me  come  to  you  again."  But  still,  whenever  the  time  came 
round  for  Persephone  to  go  back  to  Hades,  Demeter  thought  of 
the  happy  days  when  her  child  was  a  merry  girl  playing  with 
her  companions  and  gathering  the  bright  flowers  in  the  beautiful 
plains  of  Enna. 


THE    pLEEP    OP    ENDYMIOJ^I. 

One  beautiful  evening,  when  the  sun  was  sinking  down  in 
the  West,  Selene  was  wandering  on  the  banks  of  the  River 
Meander;  and  she  thought  that  of  all  the  places  which  she  had 
ever  seen  there  was  none  more  lovely  than  the  quiet  valley 
through  which  that  gentle  river  was  flowing.  On  her  right 
hand  rose  a  hill,  whose  sides  were  covered  with  trees  and 
flowers,  where  the  vine  clambered  over  the  elm,  and  the  purple 
grapes  shone  out  from  amongst  the  dark  leaves.  Then  Selene 
asked  some  people  who  were  passing  by  to  tell  her  the  name  of 
the  hill,  and  they  told  her  that  it  was  called  the  hill  of  Latmos. 
On  she  went,  under  the  tall  trees,  whose  branches  waved  over 
her  in  the  clear  evening  light,  till  at  last  she  reached  the  top,  and 
looked  down  on  the  valley  which  lay  beneath  her.  Then  Selene 
was  indeed  astonished,  for  she  had  never  seen  anything  so  beau- 


5'6 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY 


LituI  before,  even  in  a  dream.  She  had  fancied  that  nothing 
could  be  more  lovely  than  the  vale  of  the  Meander,  and  now  she 
saw  something  far  more  beautiful  than  the  rocks  and  stones  and 
clear  bright  water  of  that  winding  river.  It  was  a  small  valley, 
at  the  bottom  of  which  a  lake  shone  like  silver  in  the  light  of  the 
setting  sun.  All  around  it  beautiful  trees  covered  the  sloping 
banks;  and  their  long  branches  drooped  down  over  the  water. 

Not  a  breath  of  wind  was 
stirring  the  dark  leaves — not 
a  bird  was  flying  in  the  air. 
Only  the  large  green  dragon- 
fly floated  lazily  on  the  lake, 
while  the  swan  lay  half  asleep 
on  the  silvery  waters.  On 
one  side,  in  the  loveHest  cor- 
ner of  the  valley,  there  was  a 
marble  temple,  whose  pillars 
shone  like  the  white  snow; 
and,  leading  down  to  the  lake, 
there  were  steps  of  marble, 
over  which  the  palm  trees 
spread  their  branches,  and 
everywhere  were  clusters  of 
all  beautiful  flowers,  amongst 
which  mosses,  and  ferns,  and 
There  was  the  white  narcissus 
and  the  purple  tulip — the  dark  hyacinth  and  the  soft  red  rose. 
But  more  beautiful  than  all  the  trees  and  flowers,  a  man  lay 
sleeping  on  the  marble  steps  of  the  temple.  It  was  Endymion, 
who  lived  in  this  quiet  valley,  where  the  storms  never  came,  and 
where  the  dark  rain-clouds  never  covered  the  sides  of  the  moun- 
tain. There  he  lay  in  tlic  still  evening  hour;  and  at  first  Selene 
thought  that  it  could  scarcely  be  a  living  man  whom  she  saw,  for 


JUNO  (or  Here). 

the  green   ivy   were   tangled. 


THE    SLEEP    OF    ENDYMION.  517 

he  lay  as  still  as  if  he  were  made  of  marble  himself  And  as 
she  looked  upon  him,  Selene  drew  in  her  breath  for  wonder;  and 
she  went  gently  down  the  valley  till  she  came  to  the  steps  where 
Endymion  lay  asleep.  Presently  the  sun  sank  behind  the  hill, 
and  the  rich  glow  of  the  evening  made  the  silver}'  lake  gleam 
like  gold;  and  Endymion  awoke  and  saw  Selene  standing  near 
him.  Then  Selene  said,  "  I  am  wandering  over  the  earth;  and 
I  may  not  stay  here.  Come  awa}',  and  I  will  show  you  larger 
lakes  and  more  glorious  valleys  than  these."  But  Endymion 
said,  "  Lady,  I  can  not  go.  There  may  be  lakes  which  are 
larger,  and  valleys  more  splendid  than  this,  but  I  love  this  still 
and  quiet  place,  where  the  storms  never  come,  and  the  sky  is 
never  black  with  clouds.  You  must  not  ask  me  to  leave  the 
cool  shade  of  these  sleeping  trees,  and  the  myrtles  and  roses 
which  twine  under  the  tall  elms,  and  these  waters,  where  the 
swans  rest  in  the  hot  hours  of  the  day  and  the  dragon-fly  spreads 
his  green  and  golden  wings  to  the  sun." 

Many  times  did  Selene  ask  him,  but  Endymion  would  not 
leave  his  pleasant  home;  and  at  last  she  said,  "  I  can  stay  no 
more,  but  if  you  will  not  come  with  me,  then  you  shall  sleep  on 
these  marble  steps  and  never  wake  up  again."  So  Selene  left 
him,  and  presently  a  deep  sleep  came  over  Endymion,  and  his 
hands  dropped  down  by  his  side,  and  he  la}'  without  moving  on 
the  steps  of  the  temple,  while  the  evening  breeze  began  to  stir 
gently  the  broad  leaves  of  the  palm  trees,  and  the  lilies  which 
bowed  their  heads  over  the  calm  water.  There  he  lay  all 
through  the  still  and  happy  night;  and  there  he  lay  when  the 
sun  rose  up  from  the  sea,  and  mounted  up  with  its  fiery  horses 
into  the  sky.  There  was  a  charm  now  on  this  beautiful  valley, 
which  made  the  breeze  more  gentle  and  the  lake  more  still  than 
ever.  The  green  dragon-flies  came  floating  lazily  in  the  air  near 
Endymion,  but  he  nev^er  opened  his  eyes;  and  the  swans  looked 
up  from  the  lake,  to  see  if  he  was  coming  to  feed  them;  but  he 


jl8  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

Stirred  not  in  his  deep  and  dreamless  sleep.  There  he  lay  day 
and  night,  lor  weeks,  and  months,  and  years;  and  many  times, 
when  the  sun  went  down  into  the  sea,  Selene  came  and  stood  on 
the  Latmian  hill,  and  watched  Endymion  as  he  lay  asleep  on  the 
marble  steps  beneath  the  drooping  palm  trees;  and  she  said,  "  1 
have  punished  him  because  he  would  not  leave  his  home;  and 
Endymion  sleeps  forever  in  the  land  of  Latmos." 


PHAETHON. 

In  the  golden  house  which  Ilephaistos  had  wrought  for  him 
with  his  wondrous  skill,  Helios  saw  nothing  fairer  than  his  son 
Phaethon;  and  he  said  to  his  mother,  Klymene,  that  no  mortal 
child  might  be  matched  with  him  for  beauty.  And  Phaethon 
heard  the  words,  and  his  heart  was  filled  with  an  evil  pride.  So 
he  stood  before  the  throne  of  Helios,  and  said,  "  O  father,  who 
dwellest  in  the  dazzling  light,  they  say  that  I  am  thy  child;  but 
how  shall  I  know  it  while  I  live  in  thy  house  without  name  and 
glory.?  Give  me  a  token,  that  men  may  know  m.e  to  be  thy 
son."  Then  Helios  bade  him  speak,  and  swear  to  grant  his 
prayer;  and  Phaethon  said,  "I  will  guide  thy  chariot  for  one  day 
through  the  hisjh  heaven;  bid  the  Horai  make  ready  the  horses 
for  me,  when  Eos  spreads  her  quivering  light  in  the  sky."  But 
the  heart  of  Helios  was  filled  with  ibar,  and  he  besought  his  son 
with  many  tears  to  call  back  his  words.  "  O  Phaethon,  bright 
child  of  Klymene,  for  all  thy  beauty  thou  art  mortal  still;  and 
the  horses  of  Helios  obey  no  earthl}^  master."  But  Phaethon 
barkened  not  to  his  words,  and  hastened  away  to  the  dwelling  of 
the  Horai,  who  guard  the  fiery  horses.  "Make  ready  for  me," 
he  said,  "  the  chariot  of  Helios,  for  this  day  I  go  through  the 
high  heaven  in  the  stead  of  my  father." 

The  fair-haired  Eos  spread  her  faint  light  in  the   pale   sky, 


PHAETHON. 


519 


and  Lampetie  was  driving  the  cattle  of  Helios  to  their  bright 
pastures,  when  the  Horai  brought  forth  his  horses  and  harnessed 
them  to  the  fiery  chariot.  With  eager  hand  Phaethon  seized  the 
reins,  and  the  horses  sped  upon  their  way  up  the  heights  of  the 
blue  heaven,  until  the  heart  of  Phaethon  was  full  of  fear  and  the 
reins  quivered  in  his  grasp.  Wildly  and  more  madly  sped  the 
steeds,  till  at  last  they  hurried  from  the  track  which  led  to  the 
Hesperian  land.  Down  from  their  path  they  plunged,  and  drew 
near  to  the  broad  plains  of  earth.  Fiercer  and  fiercer  flashed 
the  scorching  flames;  the  trees  bowed  down  their  withered  heads; 
the  green  grass  shriveled  on  the  hillsides;  the  rivers  vanished' 
from  their  slimy  beds,  and  the  black  vapors  rose  with  smoke 
and  fire  from  the  hidden  depths  of  the  mighty  hills.  Then  in 
every  land  the  sons  of  men  lay  dying  on  the  scorched  and  gaping 
ground.  They  looked  up  to  the  yellow  sky,  but  the  clouds  came 
not;  they  sought  the  rivers  and  fountains,  but  no  water  glistened 
on  their  seething  beds ;  and  young  and  old,  all  lay  down  in  mad- 
ness of  heart  to  sleep  the  sleep  of  death. 

So  sped  the  horses  of  Helios  on  their  fiery  wanderings,  and 
Zeus  looked  down  from  his  Thessalian  hill  and  saw  that  all  living 
things  on  the  earth  must  die  unless  Phaethon  should  be  smitten 
down  from  his  father's  chariot.  Then  the  mighty  thunders  woke 
in  the  hot  sky  which  mourned  for  the  clouds  that  were  dead; 
and  the  streams  of  lightning  rushed  forth  upon  Phaethon,  and 
bore  him  from  the  blazing  heaven  far  down  beneath  the  waters 
of  the  green  sea. 

But  his  sisters  wept  sore  for  the  death  of  the  bright  Phaethon, 
and  the  daughters  of  Hesperos  built  his  tomb  on  the  sea-shore, 
that  all  men  might  remember  the  name  of  the  son  of  Helios  and 
say,  "  Phaethon  fell  from  his  father's  chariot,  but  he  lost  not  his 
glory,  for  his   heart  was  set  upon  great  things." 


520 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


BI^IAI^EO?. 


There  was  strife  in  the  halls  of  Olympos,  for  Zeus  had  coPx 
quered  the  ancient  gods,  and  sat  on  the  throne  of  his  father 
Kronos.  In  his  hand  he  held  the  thunderbolts;  the  lightning 
slumbered  at  his  feet,  and  around  him  all  the  gods  trembled  for 
the  o-reatness  of  his  power.  For  he  laid  hard  tasks  on  all,  and 
spoke  hard  words,  and  he  thought  to  rule  harshly  over  the  gods 

who  dwell  on  the  earth  and 
in  the  broad  sea.  All  the  day 
long  Hermes  toiled  on  weary 
errands  to  do  his  will;  for 
Zeus  sought  to  crush  all 
alike,  and  remembered  not 
the  time  when  he,  too,  was 
weak  and  powerless. 

Then  were  there  secret 
whisperings,  as  the  gods  of 
earth  and  sea  took  counsel 
together;  and  Poseidon,  the 
lord  of  the  dark  waters, 
spoke  in  fierce  anger,  and 
said,  "  Hearken  to  me,  Here 
and  Athene,  and  let  us  rise 
up  against  Zeus,  and  teach 
him  that  he  has  not  power 
over  all.  See  how  he  bears 
DIANA  {or  Arteiais).  himself  in   his   new  majesty 

— how  he  thinks  not  of  the  aid  which  we  gave  him  in  the  war 
with  his  father  Kronos — how  he  has  smitten  down  even  the 
mightiest  of  his  friends.  For  Prometheus,  who  gave  fire  to 
mortal    men    and   saved   them   from    biting   cold    and   gnawing 


BRIAREOS. 


521 


hunger,  lies  chained  on  the  crags  of  Caucasus;  and  if  he  shrink 
not  to  bind  the  Titan,  see  that  he  smite  not  thee  also  in  his 
wrath,  O  lady  Here."  And  Athene  said,  "  The  wisdom  of  Zeus 
is  departed  from  him,  and  all  his  deeds  are  done  now  in  craft  and 
falsehood;  let  us  bind  him  fast,  lest  all  the  heaven  and  earth  be 
filled  with  strife  and  war."  So  they  vowed  a  vow  that  they 
would  no  more  bear  the  tyranny  of  Zeus ;  and  Hephaistos  forged 
strong  chains  at  their  bidding  to  cast  around  him  when  sleep  lay 
heavy  on  his  eyelids. 

But  Thetis  heard  the  words  of  Poseidon  and  Athene,  as  she 
sat  beneath  the  waters  in  her  coral  cave,  and  she  rose  up  like  a 
white  mist  from  the  sea,  and  knelt  before  the  throne  of  Zeus. 
Then  she  clasped  her  arms  round  his  knees,  and  said,  "  O  Zeus, 
the  gods  tremble  at  thy  might,  but  they  love  not  thy  hard  words, 
and  they  say  that  thy  wisdom  hath  departed  from  thee,  and  that 
thou  doest  all  things  in  craft  and  falsehood.  Hearken  to  me,  O 
Zeus,  for  Hephaistos  hath  forged  the  chain  and  the  lady  Here, 
and  Poseidon,  the  lord  of  the  sea,  and  the  pure  Athene  have 
vowed  a  vow  to  bind  thee  fast  when  sleep  lies  heavy  on  thine 
eyes.  Let  me  therefore  go,  that  I  may  bring  Briareos  to  aid  thee 
with  his  hundred  hands,  and  when  he  sits  by  thy  side,  then  shalt 
thou  need  no  more  to  fear  the  wrath  of  Here  and  Poseidon. 
And  when  the  peril  is  past,  then,  O  Zeus,  remember  that  thou 
must  rule  gently  and  justly,  for  that  power  shall  not  stand  which 
fights  with  truth  and  love;  and  forget  not  those  who  aid  thee,  nor 
reward  them  as  thou  hast  rewarded  Prometheus  on  the  crag-s  of 
Caucasus,  for  it  may  be  that,  in  time  to  come,  I  may  ask  a  boon 
from  thee  for  Achilleus,  my  child,  who  dwells  now  in  the  house 
of  his  father,  Peleus;  and  when  that  hour  shall  come,  then  call  to 
mind  how  in  time  past  I  saved  thee  from  the  chains  of  Hepha- 
istos." 

Then  Zeus  spoke  gently,  and  said,  "  Hasten,  Thetis,  and 
bring  hither  the  mighty  Briareos,  that  he  may  guard  me  with  his 


522 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


hundred  hands,  and  fear  not  for  the  words  that  thou  hast  spoken, 
for  Zeus  will  not  cast  aside  good  counsel,  and  the  gods  shall  hate 
me  no  more  for  hard  and  unkindly  words." 

So  from  the  depths  of  the  inmost  earth  Thetis  summoned 
Briareos  to  the  aid  of  Zeus,  and  presently  his  giant  form  was 
seen  in  the  hall  of  Olympos,  and  the  gods  trembled  as  he  sat 
down  by  the  side  of  Zeus,  exulting  in  the  greatness  of  his 
strength.  And  Zeus  spoke,  and  said,  "  Hearken  to  me,  O  lady 
Here,  and  Poseidon,  and  Athene.  I  know  your  counsels,  and 
how  ye  purposed  to  bind  me  for  my  evil  deeds;  but  fear  not. 
Only  do  my  bidding  in  time  to  come,  and  ye  shall  no  more  have 
cause  to  say  that  Zeus  is  a  hard  and  cruel  master." 


DIONY^Og. 

In  the  dark  land  beneath  the  earth,  where  wander  the 
ghosts  of  men,  lay  Semele,  the  daughter  of  Kadmos,  while  her 
child  Dionysos  grew  up  full  of  strength  and  beauty  on  the  flowery 
plain  of  Orchomenos.  But  the  wrath  of  the  lady  Here  still 
burned  alike  against  the  mother  and  the  child.  No  pity  felt 
she  for  the  helpless  maiden  whom  the  flery  lightning  of  Zeus 
had  slain;  and  so  in  the  prison-house  of  Hades  Semele  mourned 
for  the  love  which  she  had  lost,  waiting  till  her  child  should  lead 
her  forth  to  the  banquet  of  the  gods.  But  for  him  the  wiles  of 
Here  boded  long  toil  and  grievous  peril.  On  the  land  and  on 
the  sea  strange  things  befel  him;  but  from  all  dangers  his  own 
strong  arm  and  the  love  of  Zeus,  his  father,  rescued  him.  Thus 
throughout  the  land  men  spake  of  his  beauty  and  his  strength, 
and  said  that  he  was  worthy  to  be  the  child  of  the  maiden  who 
had  dared  to  look  on  the  majesty  of  Zeus.  At  length  the  days 
of  his  youth  were  ended,  and   a  great  yearning  filled  his  heart 


DIONYSOS. 


523 


to  wander  through  the  earth  and  behold  the  cities  and  the  ways 
of  men.  So  from  Orchomenos  Dionysos  journeyed  to  the  sea- 
shore, and  he  stood  on  a  jutting  rock  to  gaze  on  the  tumbhng 
waters.  The  glad  music  of  the  waves  fell  upon  his  ear  and 
filled  his  soul  with  a  wild  joy.  His  dark  locks  streamed  olori- 
ously  over  his  shoulders,  and  his  purple  robe  rustled  in  the  soft 
summer  breeze.  Before  him  on  the  blue  waters  the  ships  danced 
merrily  in  the  sparkling  sunlight,  as  they  hastened  from  shore  to 
shore  on  the  errands  of  war  and  peace.  Presently  a  ship  drew 
near  to  the  beach.  Her  white  sail  was  lowered  hastily  to  the 
deck,  and  five  of  her  crew  leaped  out  and  plunged  through  the 
sea-foam  to  the  shore,  near  the  rock  on  which  stood  Dionysos. 
"  Come  with  us,"  they  said,  with  rough  voices,  as  they  seized 
him  in  their  brawny  arms;  "  it  is  not  every  day  that  Tyrrhenian 
mariners  fall  in  with  youths  like  thee."  With  rude  jests  they 
dragged  him  into  the  ship,  and  there  made  ready  to  bind 
him.  "  A  brave  youth  and  fair  he  is,"  they  said;  "  we  shall  not 
lack  bidders  when  we  put  forth  our  goods  for  sale."  So  round 
his  limbs  they  fastened  stout  withy  bands,  but  they  fell  from  off 
him  as  withered  leaves  fall  from  off  trees  in  autumn,  and  a  care- 
less smile  played  on  his  face  as  he  sat  down  and  looked  calmly 
on  the  robbers  who  stood  before  him.  Then  on  a  sudden  the 
voice  of  the  helmsman  was  heard,  as  he  shouted,  "  Fools,  what 
do  ye  ?  The  wrath  of  Zeus  is  hurrying  you  to  your  doom.  This 
youth  is  not  of  mortal  race;  and  who  can  tell  which  of  the  undy- 
ing gods  has  put  on  this  beautiful  form.^  Send  him  straightway 
from  the  ship  in  peace,  if  ye  fear  not  a  deadly  storm  as  we  cross 
the  open  sea."  Loud  laughed  the  crew,  as  their  chief  answered, 
jeeringly,  "  Look  out  for  the  breeze,  wise  helmsman,  and  draw 
up  the  sail  to  the -wind.  That  is  more  thy  task  than  to  busy 
thyself  with  our  doings.  Fear  not  for  the  boy.  The  withy 
bands  were  but  weak;  it  is  no  great  marvel  that  he  shook  them 
off.     He  shall  go  with  us,  and  before  we  reach  Egypt  or  Cyprus 


5^4 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


or  the  land  of  the  Hyperboreans,  doubtless  he  will  tell  us  his 
name  and  the  name  of  his  fother  and  mother.  Fear  not,  we 
have  found  a  godsend." 

So  the  sail  was  drawn  up  to  the  mast,  and  it  swelled 
proudly  before  the  breeze  as  the  ship  dashed  through  the  crested 
waves.  And  still  the  sun  shone  brightly  down  on  the  water, 
and  the  soft  white  clouds  floated  lazily  in  the  heavens,  as  the 
mighty  Dionysos  began  to  show  signs  and  wonders  before  the 
robbers  who  had  seized  him.  Over  the  deck  ran  a  stream  of 
purple  wine,  and  a  fragrance  as  of  a  heavenly  banquet  filled  the 
air.  Over  mast  and  sailyard  clambered  the  clustering  vine,  and 
dark  masses  of  grapes  hung  from  the  branches.  The  ivy  twined 
in  tangled  masses  round  the  tackling,  and  bright  garlands  shone, 
like  jeweled  crowns,  on  every  oar-pin.  Then  a  great  terror  fell 
on  all,  as  they  cried  to  the  old  helmsman,  "  Quick,  turn  the  ship 
to  the  shore;  there  is  no  hope  for  us  here."  But  there  followed 
a  mightier  wonder  still.  A  loud  roar  broke  upon  the  air,  and  a 
tawny  lion  stood  before  them,  with  a  grim  and  grizzly  bear  by 
his  side.  Cowering  like  pitiful  slaves,  the  Tyrrhenians  crowded 
to  the  stern,  and  crouched  round  the  good  helmsman.  Then  the 
lion  sprang  and  seized  the  chief,  and  the  men  leaped  in  their 
agony  over  the  ship's  side.  But  the  power  of  Dionysos  followed 
them  still;  and  a  change  came  over  their  bodies  as  they  heard  a 
voice,  which  said,  "  In  the  form  of  dolphins  shall  ye  wander 
through  the  sea  for  many  generations.  No  rest  shall  ye  have 
by  night  or  by  day,  while  ye  fly  from  the  ravenous  sharks  that 
shall  chase  you  through  the  seas." 

But  before  the  old  helmsman  again  stood  Dionysos,  the 
young  and  fair,  in  all  the  glory  of  undying  beauty.  Again  his 
dark  locks  flowed  gently  over  his  shoulders,  and  the  purple 
robe  rustled  softly  in  the  breeze.  "  Fear  not,"  he  said,  "good 
friend  and  true,  because  thou  hast  aided  one  who  is  sprung  from 
the   deathless   race   of  the  gods.     I  am   Dion3^sos,  the  child   of 


DIONYSOS. 


525 


Zeus,  the  lord  of  the  wine-cup  and  the  revel.  Thou  hast  stood 
by  me  in  the  hour  of  peril;  wherefore  my  power  shall  shield 
thee  from  the  violence  of  evil  men  and  soothe  thee  in  a  o-reen 
old  age,  till  thine  eyes  close  in  the  sleep  of  death  and  thou  goest 
forth  to  dwell  among  brave  heroes  and  good  men  in  the  as- 
phodel meadows  of  Elysium." 

Then  at  the  bidding  of  Dionysos,  the  north  wind  came  and 
wafted  the  ship  to  the  land  of  Egypt,  where  Proteus  was  King. 
And  so  began  the  long  wanderings  of  the  son  of  Semele,  through 
the  regions  of  the  Ethiopians  and  the  Indians,  towards  the  rising 
of  the  sun.  Whithersoever  he  went,  the  women  of  the  land 
gathered  round  him  with  wild  cries  and  songs,  and  he  showed 
them  of  his  secret  things,  punishing  grievously  all  who  set  at 
naught  the  laws  which  he  ordained.  So,  at  his  word,  Lykurgos, 
the  Edonian  chieftan,  was  slain  by  his  people,  and  none  dared 
any  more  to  speak  against  Dionysos,  until  he  came  back  to  the 
city  where  Semele,  his  mother,  had  been  smitten  by  the  light- 
nings of  Zeus. 


PENTHEUg. 

For  many  years  Dionysos  wandered  far  away  from  the  land 
of  his  birth;  and  wherever  he  went  he  taught  the  people  of  the 
country  to  worship  him  as  a  god,  and  showed  them  strange  rites. 
Far  r.way  he  roamed,  to  the  regions  where  the  Ganges  rolls  his 
mighty  stream  into  the  Indian  Sea,  and  where  the  Nile  brings 
every  year  rich  gifts  from  the  southern  mountains.  And  in  all 
the  lands  to  which  he  came  he  made  the  women  gather  round 
him  and  honor  him  with  wild  cries  and  screams  and  marvelous 
customs  such  as  they  had  never  known  before.  As  he  went 
onwards  the  face  of  the  land  was  changed.  The  women  grouped 
themselves   in  companies  far  away  from  the  sight  of  men,  and, 


5^^ 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


hio-h  up  on  the  barren  hills  or  down  in  the  narrow  valleys,  with 
wild  movements  and  tierce  shoutings,  paid  honor  to  Dionysos, 
the  lord  of  the  wine-cup  and  the  feast.  At  length,  through  the 
Thracian  highlands  and  the  soft  plains  of  Thessaly,  Dionysos 
came  back  to  Thebes,  where  he  had  been  born  amid  the  roar 
of  the  thunder  and  the  blaze  of  the  fiery  lightning.  Kadmos, 
the  King,  who  had  built  the  city,  was  now  old  and  weak,  and  he 
had  made  Pentheus,  the  child  of  his  daughter  Agave,  King  in  his 
stead.  So  Pentheus  sought  to  rule  the  people  well,  as  his  father 
Kadmos  had  done,  and  to  train  them  in  the  old  laws,  that  they 
might  be  quiet  in  the  days  of  peace,  and  orderly  and  brave  in 
war. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  when  Dionysos  came  near  to 
Thebes,  and  commanded  all  the  people  to  receive  the  new  rites, 
which  he  sought  to  teach  them,  it  grieved  Pentheus  a1 
the  heart;  and    when  he  saw  how  the    women   seemed    smitten 

with  madness,  and  that  they 
wandered  away  in  groups  to 
desert  places,  where  they  lurked 
for  man}'  days  and  nights,  far 
from  the  sight  of  men,  he 
mourned  for  the  evils  wiiich 
his  kinsman,  Dionysos,  was  bring- 
ing upon  the  land.  So  King 
Pentheus  made  a  law  that  none 
should  follow  these  new  cus- 
toms, and  that  the  women  should 
stay  quietly  doing  their  own 
work  in  their  homes.  But  when 
they  heard  this,  they  were  all 
VULCAN   (.;•  iiepharstos).  j-^^n    ^^    ^-^^,.^^,^   ^-^^   Dionysos  had 

deceived  them  by  his  treacherous  words,  and  even  Kadmos  him- 
self, in  his  weakness  and  old  age,  had  been  led  astray  by  them. 


PENTHEUS. 


527 


In  crowds  they  thronged  around  the  house  of  Pentheus,  raisino- 
loud  shouts  in  honor  of  Dionysos,  and  besought  him  to  follow 
the  ..^,w  way,  but  he  would  not  hearken  to  them. 

Thus  it  was  for  many  days;  and  when  all  the  city  was 
shaken  by  the  madness  of  the  new  worship,  Pentheus  thought 
that  he  would  see  with  his  own  eyes  the  strange  rites  by  which 
the  women,  in  their  lurking-places,  did  honor  to  Dionysos.  So 
he  went  secretly  to  some  hidden  dells,  whither  he  knew  that  the 
women  had  gone ;  but  Dionysos  saw  him  and  laid  his  hands  upon 
him,  and  straightway  the  mind  of  King  Pentheus  himself  was 
darkened,  and  the  madness  of  the  worshipers  was  upon  him, 
also.  Then  in  his  folly  he  climbed  a  tall  pine-tree,  to  see  what 
the  women  did  in  their  revelry;  but  on  a  sudden  one  of  them 
saw  him,  and  they  shrieked  wildly  and  rooted  up  the  tree  in  their 
fury.  With  one  accord  they  seized  Pentheus  and  tore  him  in 
pieces;  and  his  own  mother,  Agave,  was  among  the  first  to  lay 
hands  on  her  son.  So  Dionysos,  the  wine  god,  triumphed;  and 
this  was  the  way  in  which  the  new  worship  was  set  up  in  the 
Hellenic  land. 


AgKLEPIO^. 

On  the  shores  of  the  Lake  Boibeis,  the  golden-haired  ApoUc 
saw  and  loved  Koronis,  the  beautiful  daughter  of  Phlegyas. 
Many  a  time  they  wandered  beneath  the  branching  elms  while 
the  dew-drops  glistened  like  jewels  on  the  leaves,  or  sat  beneath 
the  ivy  bowers  as  the  light  of  evening  faded  from  the  sky  and 
the  blue  veil  of  mist  fell  upon  the  sleeping  hills.  But  at  length 
the  day  came  when  Apollo  must  journey  to  the  western  land,  and 
as  he  held  Koronis  in  his  arms,  his  voice  fell  softly  and  sadly  on 
her  ear.  "  I  go,"  he  said,  "  to  a  land  that  is  very  far  off,  but 
surely  I  will  return.     More  precious  to  me   than  aught   else  on 


528  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

the  wide  earth  is  tliy  love,  Koronis.  Let  not  its  flower  lade,  but 
keep  it  fresh  and  pure  as  now,  till  I  come  to  thee  again.  The 
dancing  Horai  trip  quickly  by,  Koronis,  and  when  they  bring  the 
day  on  which  I  may  clasp  thee  in  mine  arms  once  more,  it  may 
be  that  I  shall  find  thee  watching  proudly  over  the  child  of  our 
love." 

He  was  gone,  and  for  Koronis  it  seemed  as  though  the  sun 
had  ceased  to  shine  in  the  heaven.  For  many  a  day  she  cared 
not  to  wander  by  the  winding  shore  in  the  light  of  early  morning, 
or  to  rest  in  the  myrtle  bowers  as  the  flush  of  evening  faded  from 
the  sky.  Her  thoughts  went  back  to  the  days  that  were  passed, 
when  Apollo,  the  golden-haired,  made  her  glad  with  the  music 
of  his  voice.  But  at  length  a  stranger  came  to  the  Boibean 
land,  and  dwelt  in  the  house  of  Phlegyas,  and  the  spell  of  his 
glorious  beauty  fell  upon  Koronis,  and  dimmed  the  love  which 
she  had  borne  for  Apollo,  who  was  far  away.  Again  for  her  the 
sun  shone  brightly  in  the  heaven,  and  the  birds  filled  the  air  with 
a  joyous  music,  but  the  tale  went  swiftly  through  the  land,  and 
Apollo  heard  the  evil  tidings  as  he  journeyed  back  with  his  sister, 
Artemis,  to  the  house  of  Phlegyas.  A  look  of  sorrow  that  may 
not  be  told  passed  over  his  fair  face;  but  Artemis  stretched  forth 
her  hand  towards  the  flashing  sun  and  swore  that  the  maiden 
should  rue  her  fickleness.  Soon,  on  the  shore  of  the  Lake 
Boibeis,  Koronis  lay  smitten  by  the  spear  which  may  never  miss 
its  mark,  and  her  child,  Asklepios,  lay  a  helpless  babe  by  her 
side.  Then  the  voice  of  Apollo  was  heard  saying,  "  Slay  not  the 
child  with  the  mother,  he  is  born  to  do  great  things,  but  bear 
him  to  the  wise  centaur,  Cheiron,  and  bid  him  train  the  boy  in 
all  his  wisdom,  and  teach  him  to  do  brave  deeds,  that  men  may 
praise  his  name  in  the  generations  that  shall  be  hereafter." 

So  in  the  deep  glens  of  Pelion  the  child,  Asklepios,  grew  up 
to  manhood  under  the  teaching  of  Cheiron,  the  wise  and  good. 
In  all  the  land  there  was  none  that  mi<^ht  vie  with  him  in  strens"th 


ASKLEPIOS 


529 


of  body;  but  the  people  marveled  yet  more  at  his  wisdom,  which 
passed  the  wisdom  of  the  sons  of  men,  for  he  had  learned  the 
power  of  every  herb  and  leaf  to  stay  the  pangs  of  sickness  and 
bring  back  health  to  the  wasted  form.  Day  by  da}-  the  fame  of 
his  doings  was  spread  abroad  more  widely  through  the  land,  so 
that  all  who  were  sick  hastened  to  Asklepios  and  besought  his 
help.  But  soon  there  went  forth  a  rumor  that  tlie  strength  of 
death  had  been  conquered  by  him,  and  that  Athene,  the  mighty 
daughter  of  Zeus,  had  taught  Asklepios  how  to  bring  back  the 
dead  from  the  dark  kingdom  of  Hades.  Then,  as  the  number 
of  those  whom  he  brought  from  the  gloomy  Stygian  land  in- 
creased more  and  more.  Hades  went  in  hot  anger  to  Olympos, 
and  spoke  bitter  words  against  the  son  of  Koronis,  so  that  the 
heart  of  Zeus  was  stirred  with  a  great  fear  lest  the  children  of 
men  should  be  delivered  from  death  and  defy  the  power  of  the 
gods.  Then  Zeus  bowed  his  head,  and  the  lightnings  flashed 
from  heaven,  and  Asklepios  was  smitten  down  by  the  scathing 
thunderbolt. 

Mighty  and  terrible  was  the  grief  that  stirred  the  soul  of 
the  golden-haired  Apollo  when  his  son  was  slain.  The  sun 
shone  dimly  from  the  heaven;  the  birds  were  silent  in  the  dark- 
ened groves;  the  trees  bowed  down  their  heads  in  sorrow,  and 
the  hearts  of  all  the  sons  of  men  fainted  within  them,  because 
the  healer  of  their  pains  and  sickness  lived  no  more  upon  the 
earth.  But  the  wrath  of  Apollo  was  mightier  than  his  grief,  and 
he  smote  the  giant  C3xlopes,  who  shaped  the  tier}'  lightnings  far 
down  in  the  depths  of  the  burning  mountain.  Then  the  anger 
of  Zeus  was  kindled  against  his  own  child,  the  golden-haired 
Apollo,  and  he  spake  the  word  that  he  should  be  banished  from 
t;:e  home  of  the  gods  to  the  dark  St}'gian  land.  But  the  lady 
Leto  fell  at  his  knees  and  besought  him  for  her  child,  and  the 
doom  was  given  that  a  whole  year  long  he  should  serve  as  a 
bondsman  in  the  house  of  Admetos,  who  ruled  in  Pherai. 

34 


530 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


IXIO|^. 

Fair  as  the  blushing  clouds  which  float   in   early  morning 
across  the  blue  heaven,  the  beautiful  Dia  gladdened  the  hearts  of  all 

who  dwelt  in  the  house  of 
her  father  Hesioneus. 
There  was  no  guile  in  her 
soft  clear  e3'e,  for  the  light 
of  Eos  w^as  not  more  pure 
than  the  light  of  the  maid- 
en's countenance.  There 
was  no  craft  in  her  smile, 
for  on  her  rested  the  love 
and  the  wisdom  of  Athene. 
Many  a  chieftain  soucrht  to 
win  her  for  his  bride;  but 
her  heart  beat  with  love 
only  for  Ixion  the  beauti- 
ful and  mighty,  who  came 
to  the  halls  of  Hesioneus 
with  horses  which  can  not 
grow  old  or  die.  The 
golden  hair  flashed  a  glory 
from  his  head  dazzling  as 
the  rays.which  stream  from 
Helios  when  he  drives  his 
chariot  up  the  heights  of 
heaven,  and  his  flowing 
robe  glistened  as  he  moved 
like  the  vesture  which  the 
^  sun-god  gave   to  the  wise 

MINERVA,  OR  PALLAS  ATHENE.   (Foundin  Pompen.)  ""'''^i^-'^'ll  Medeia,  who  dwelt 

in  Kolchis. 
Long   time    Ixion   abode    in    the    liouse  of  Hesioneus.    for 


IXION.  -^X 

Hesioneus  was  loth  to  part  with  his  child.  But  at  the  last 
Ixion  sware  to  give  for  her  a  ransom  precious  as  the  i^^olden 
fruits  which  tielios  wins  from  the  teeming  earth.  So  the 
word  was  spoken,  and  Dia  the  fair  became  the  wife  of  the 
son  of  Amythaon,  and  the  undying  horses  bare  her  awav  in 
his  gleaming  chariot.  Many  a  day  and  month  and  3ear  the 
fiery  steeds  of  Helios  sped  on  their  burning  path,  and  sank 
down  hot  and  wearied  in  the  western  sea;  but  no  gifts  came 
from  Ixion,  and  Hesioneus  waited  in  vain  for  the  wealth  which 
had  tempted  him  to  barter  away  his  child.  Messenger  after 
messenger  went  and  came,  and  always  the  tidings  were  that 
Ixion  had  better  things  to  do  than  to  waste  his  wealth  on  the 
mean  and  greedy.  "  Tell  him,"  he  said,  "  that  every  day  I 
journey  across  the  wide  earth,  gladdening  the  hearts  of  the 
children  of  men,  and  that  his  child  has  now  a  more  glorious 
home  than  that  of  the  mighty  gods  who  dwell  on  the  high 
013/mpos.  What  would  he  have  more.^"  Then  day  by  day 
Hesioneus  held  converse  with  himself,  and  his  people  heard  the 
words  which  came  sadly  from  his  lips.  "What  would  I  more.^" 
he  said;  "  I  would  have  the  love  of  my  child.  I  let  her  depart, 
when  not  the  wealth  of  Phoebus  himself  could  recompense  me 
for  her  loss.  I  bartered  her  for  gifts,  and  Ixion  withholds  the 
wealth  which  he  sware  to  give.  Yet  were  all  the  riches  of  his 
treasure-house  lying  now  before  me,  one  loving  glance  from  the 
eyes  of  Dia  would  be  more  than  worth  them  all." 

But  when  his  messengers  went  yet  again  to  plead  with  Ixion, 
and  their  words  were  all  spoken  in  vain,  Hesioneus  resolved  to 
deal  craftily,  and  he  sent  his  servants  by  night  and  stole  the 
undying  horses  which  bare  his  gleaming  chariot.  Then  the 
heart  of  Ixion  was  humbled  within  him,  for  he  said,  "  My  peo- 
ple look  for  me  daily  throughout  the  wide  earth.  If  they  see 
not  my  face  their  souls  will  faint  with  fear;  they  will  not  care  to 
sow  their  fields,  and  the   golden  harvests   of  Demeter  will  wave 


'12  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

no  more  in  the  summer  breeze/'  So  there  came  messensfers 
from  Ixion,  who  said,  ''  If  tliou  wouldst  have  the  wealth  whicn 
thou  seekcst,  come  to  the  house  of  Ixion,  and  the  gifts  shall  be 
thine,  and  thine  eyes  shall  once  more  look  upon  thy  child/'  In 
haste  Hesioneus  went  forth  from  his  home,  like  a  dark  and 
lonely  cloud  stealing  across  the  broad  heaven.  All  night  long  he 
sped  upon  his  way,  and,  as  the  light  of  Eos  flushed  the  eastern 
sk\'  he  saw  afar  off  the  form  of  a  fair  woman  who  beckoned  to 
him  vvith  her  long  white  arms.  Then  the  heart  of  the  old  man 
re\-ived,  and  he  said,  "  It  is  Dia,  my  child.  It  is  enough  if  I  can 
but  hear  her  voice  and  clasp  her  in  mine  arms  and  die."  But 
his  limbs  trembled  for  jo}',  and  he  waited  until  presently  his 
daughter  came  and  stood  beside  him.  On  her  face  there  rested 
a  softer  beauty  than  in  former  da3's,  and  the  sound  of  her  voice 
was  more  tender  and  Un'ing,  as  she  said,  ''  My  father,  Zeus  has 
made  clear  to  me  many  dark  things,  for  he  has  given  me  powe^ 
to  search  out  the  secret  treasures  of  the  earth,  and  to  learn  from 
the  wise  beings  who  lurk  in  its  hidden  places  the  things  that 
shall  be  hereafter.  And  now  I  see  that  thy  life  is  well-nigh  don»\ 
if  thou  seekest  to  look  upon  the  treasures  of  Ixion,  for  no  man 
may  gaze  upon  tnem  and  live.  Go  back,  then,  to  thy  home  if 
thou  wouldst  not  die.  I  would  that  I  might  come  with  thee,  but 
so  it  ma}'  not  be.  Each  day  I  must  welcome  Ixion  when  his 
fiery  horses  come  back  from  their  long  journey,  and  every  morn- 
ing I  must  harness  them  to  his  gleaming  chariot  before  he  speeds 
upon  his  way.  Yet  thou  hast  seen  my  face  and  thou  knowest  that 
I  love  thee  now  even  as  in  the  days  of  my  childhood."  But  the 
old  greed  filled  again  the  heart  of  Hesioneus,  and  he  said,  "  The 
faith  of  Ixion  is  pledged.  If  he  withhold  still  the  treasures  which 
he  sware  to  give,  he  shall  never  more  see  the  deathless  horses. 
I  will  go  myself  into  his  treasure-house,  and  see  whether  in  verv 
truth  he  has  the  wealth  of  which  he  makes  such  proud  boasting." 
Then  Dia   elasped  her  arms  once   again  around   her  father,  and 


IXION 


533 


she  kissed  his  face,  and  said,  sadly,  "  Farewell,  then,  my  father; 
I  go  to  my  home,  for  even  the  eyes  of  Dia  may  not  gaze  on  the 
secret  treasures  of  Ixion/'  So  Dia  left  him,  and  when  the  old 
man  turned  to  look  on  her  departing  form  it  faded  from  his  sicrht 
as  the  clouds  melt  away  before  the  sun  at  noon-day.  Yet,  once 
again  he  toiled  on  his  way,  until  before  his  glorious  home  he  saw 
Ixion,  radiant  as  Phcebus  Apollo  in  his  beauty;  but  there  was 
anger  in  his  kindling  eye,  for  he  was  wroth  for  the  theft  of  his 
undying  horses.  Then  the  voice  of  Ixion  smote  the  ear  of 
Hesioneus,  harsh  as  the  flapping  of  the  wings  of  Erinys  when 
she  wanders  through  the  air.  ''  S  ^  thou  wilt  see  my  secret 
treasures.  Take  heed  that  thy  sight  be  strong."  But  Hesioneus 
spake  in  haste,  and  said,  "  Thy  faith  is  pledged,  not  only  to  let 
me  see  them,  but  to  bestow  them  on  me  as  my  own,  for  there- 
fore didst  thou  win  Dia  my  child  to  be  thy  wife/'  Then  Ixion 
opened  the  door  of  his  treasure-house  and  thrust  in  Hesioneus, 
and  the  everlasting  fire  devoured  him. 

But  far  above,  in  the  pure  heaven,  Zeus  beheld  the  deed  of 
Ixion,  and  the  tidings  were  sent  abroad  to  all  the  gods  of  Olym- 
pos,  and  to  all  the  sons  of  men,  that  Ixion  had  slain  Hesioneus 
by  craft  and  guile.  A  horror  of  great  blackness  fell  on  the 
heaven  above  and  the  earth  beneath  for  the  sin  of  which  Zeus 
alone  can  purge  away  the  guilt.  Once  more  Dia  made  ready 
her  husband's  chariot,  and  once  more  he  sped  on  his  fiery  jour- 
ney; but  all  men  turned  away  their  faces,  and  the  trees  bowed 
their  scorched  and  withered  heads  to  the  ground.  The  flowers 
drooped  sick  on  their  stalks  and  died,  the  corn  was  kindled  like 
dried  stubble  on  the  earth,  and  Ixion  said  within  himself,  "My 
sin  is  great;  men  will  not  look  upon  my  face  as  in  the  old  time, 
and  the  gods  of  Olympos  will  not  cleanse  my  hands  from  the 
guilt  of  my  treacherous  deed."  So  he  went  straightway  and 
fell  down  humbly  before  the  throne  of  Zeus,  and  said,  "O  thou 
that  dwellest  in  the  pure   aether  far  above   the   dark   cloud,  my 


534 


RELIGION    OK    MYTHOLOGY. 


hands  are  loul  with  blood,  and  thou  alone  canst  cleanse  them; 
therefore  purge  mine  iniquity,  lest  all  living  things  die  through- 
out the  wide  earth." 

Then  the  undying  gods  were  summoned  to  the  judgment 
seat  of  Zeus.  By  the  side  of  the  son  of  Kronos  stood  Hermes, 
ever  bright  and  fair,  the  messenger  who  flies  on  his  golden 
sandals  more  swiftly  than  a  dream;  but  fairer  and  more  glorious 
than  all  who  stood  near  his  throne  was  the  lady  Here,  the  queen 
of  the  blue  heaven.  On  her  brow  rested  the  majesty  of  Zeus 
and  the  glor}-  ot'  a  boundless  love  which  sheds  gladness  on  the 
teeming  earth  and  the  broad  sea.  And  even  as  he  stood  before 
the  judgment-seat,  the  eyes  of  Ixion  rested  with  a  strange  yearn- 
ing on  her  undying  beaut)',  and  he  scarce  heard  the  words  which 
cleansed  him  trom  blood-guiltiness. 

So  Ixion  tarried  in  the  house  of  Zeus,  far  above  in  the  pure 
rcther,  w^iere  only  the  light  clouds  weave  a  fairy  net-work  at  the 
rising  and  setting  of  the  sun.  Day  by  day  his  glance  rested 
more  w\arm  and  loving  on  the  countenance  of  the  lady  Here, 
and  Zeus  saw^  that  her  heart,  too,  was  kindled  by  a  strange  love,  so 
that  a  fierce  wrath  was  stirred  within   him. 

Presently  he  called  Hermes,  the  messenger,  and  said,  "  Bring 
up  from  among  the  children  of  Nephele  one  who  shall  wear  the 
semblance  of  the  lady  Here,  and  place  her  in  the  path  of  Ixion 
when  he  wanders  forth  on  the  morrow."  So  Hermes  sped  away 
on  his  errand,  and  on  that  da}'  Ixion  spake  secretly  with  Here, 
and  tempted  her  to  fly  from  the  house  of  Zeus.  "  Come  with 
me,"  he  said;  "the  winds  of  heaven  can  not  vie  in  speed  with  my 
deathless  horses,  and  the  palace  of  Zeus  is  but  as  the  house  of 
the  dead  by  the  side  of  my  glorious  home."  Then  the  heart  of 
Ixion  bounded  with  a  mighty  delight,  as  he  heard  the  words  of 
Here.  "  To-morrow  I  will  meet  thee  in  the  land  of  the  children 
of  Nephele."  So  on  the  morrow  when  the  hght  clouds  had 
spread  their  fairy  net-work   over  the    heaven,  Ixion    stole    away 


IXION. 


535 


from  the  house  of  Zeus  to  meet  the  lady  Here.  As  he  went, 
the  fairy  web  faded  from  the  sky,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
lady  Here  stood  before  him  in  all  her  beauty.  "  Here,  great 
queen  of  the  unstained  heaven,"  he  said,  "  come  with  me,  for  I 
am  worthy  of  thy  love,  and  I  quail  not  for  all  the  majesty  of 
Zeus."  But  even  as  he  stretched  forth  his  arms,  the  bricrht  fori  i 
vanished  away.  The  crashing  thunder  rolled  through  the  sky, 
and  he  heard  the  voice  of  Zeus  saying,  "  I  cleansed  thee  from 
th}'  guilt,  I  sheltered  thee  in  my  home,  and  thou  hast  dealt  with 
me  treacherously,  as  thou  didst  before  with  Hesioneus.  Thou 
hast  sought  the  love  of  Here,  but  the  maiden  which  stood  before 
thee  was  but  a  child  of  Nephele,  whom  Hermes  brought  hither  to 
cheat  thee  with  the  semblance  of  the  wife  of  Zeus.  Wherefore 
hear  thy  doom.  No  more  shall  thy  deathless  horses  speed  with 
thy  glistening  chariot  over  the  earth,  but  high  in  the  heaven  a 
blazing  wheel  shall  bear  thee  through  the  rolling  years,  and  the 
doom  shall  be  on  thee  for  ever  and  ever." 

So  was  Ixion  bound  on  the  hery-wheel,  and  the  sons  of  men 
see  the  flashing  spokes  day  by  day  as  it  whirls  in  the  high  heaven. 


TAJNTAjLOg. 

Beneath  the  mighty  rocks  of  Sipylos  stood  the  palace  of 
Tantalos,  the  Phrygian  King,  gleaming  with  the  blaze  of  gold 
and  jewels.  Its  burnished  roofs  glistened  from  afar  like  the  rays 
which  dance  on  ruffled  waters.  Its  marble  columns  flashed  with 
hues  rich  as  the  hues  of  purple  clouds  which  gather  round  the 
sun  as  he  sinks  down  in  the  sk}'.  And  far  and  wide  was  known 
the  name  of  the  mighty  chieftain,  who  was  wiser  than  all  the 
sons  of  mortal  men;  for  his  wife,  Euryanassa,  they  said,  came  of 
the  race  of  the  undying  gods,  and  to  Tantalos  Zeus  had  given 
the  power  of  Helios,  that  he  might  know  his  secret  counsels  and 


^36  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

see  into  the  hidden  things  of  earth  and  air  and  sea.  Many  a 
time,  so  the  people  said,  he  held  converse  with  Zeus  himself  in 
his  home,  on  the  high  Olympos,  and  day  by  day  his  wealth  in- 
creased, his  flocks  and  herds  multiplied  exceedingly,  and  in  his 
fields  the  golden  corn  waved  like  a  sunlit  sea. 

But,  as  the  years  rolled  round,  there  were  dark  sayings 
spread  abroad,  that  the  wisdom  of  Tantalos  was  turned  to  craft, 
and  that  his  wealth  and  power  were  used  for  evil  ends.  Men 
said  that  he  had  sinned  like  Prometheus,  the  Titan,  and  had 
stolen  from  the  banquet-hall  of  Zeus  the  food  and  drink  of  the 
gods,  and  given  them  to  mortal  men.  And  tales  yet  more 
strange  were  told,  how  that  Panderos  brought  to  him  the  hound 
which  Rhea  placed  in  the  cave  of  Dikte  to  guard  the  child,  Zeus, 
and  how,  when  Hermes  bade  him  yield  up  the  dog,  Tantalos 
laughed  him  to  scorn,  and  said,  "  Dost  thou  ask  me  for  the 
hound  which  guarded  Zeus  in  the  days  of  his  childhood.^  It  were 
as  well  to  ask  me  for  the  unseen  breeze  which  sounds  through 
the  groves  of  Sipylos.''' 

Then,  last  of  all,  men  spake  in  whispers  of  a  sin  yet  more 
fearful,  which  Tantalos  had  sinned,  and  the  tale  was  told  that 
Zeus  and  all  the  gods  came  down  from  Olympos  to  feast  in  his 
banquet-hall,  and  how,  when  the  red  wine  sparkled  in  the  golden 
goblets,  Tantalos  placed  savory  meat  before  Zeus,  and  bade  him 
eat  of  a  costly  food,  and,  when  the  feast  was  ended,  told  him  that 
in  the  dish  liad  lain  the  limbs  of  the  child  Pelops,  whose  sunny 
smile  had  gladdened  the  hearts  of  mortal  men.  Then  came  the 
da}'  of  vengeance,  for  Zeus  bade  Hermes  bring  back  Pelops 
again  from  the  kingdom  of  Hades  to  the  land  of  living  men,  and 
on  Tantalos  was  passed  a  doom  which  should  torment  him  for 
ever  and  ever.  In  the  shadowy  region  where  wander  the  ghosts 
ol  men,  Tantalos,  the}-  said,  lay  prisoned  in  a  beautiful  garden, 
gazing  on  bright  flowers  and  glistening  fruits  and  laughing 
waters,  nut  for  all    that    his   tongue  was   parched,  and  his   limbs 


TANTALOS. 


537 


were  faint  with  hunger.  No  drop  of  water  might  cool  his  lips, 
no  luscious  fruit  might  soothe  his  agony.  If  he  bowed  his  head 
to  drink,  the  water  fled  away;  if  he  stretched  forth  his  hand  to 
pluck  the  golden  apples,  they  would  vanish  like  mists  before 
the  face  of  the  rising  sun,  and  in  place  of  ripe    fruits   glistening 


ANCIENT  SCULPTURING   ON  TANTALOS. 


among  green  leaves,  a  mighty  rock  beetled  above  his  head,  as 
though  it  must  fall  and  grind  him  to  powder.  Wherefore  men 
sav,  when  the  cup  of  pleasure  is  dashed  from  the  lips  of  those 
who  would  drink  of  it,  that  on  them  has  fallen  the  doom  of  the 
Phrygian  Tantalos. 


538 


RKLKilON    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


THE    TOILg    Of    HERAKLE?. 


By  the  doom  of  his  father  Zeus,  Herakles  served  in  Argos 
the  false  and  cruel  Eurystheus.  For  so  it  was  that  Zeus  spake 
of  the  birth  of  Herakles  to  Here,  the  Queen,  and  said,  "  This  day 
shall  a  child  be  born  of  the  race  of  Perseus,  who  shall  be  the 
mightiest  of  the  sons  ot'  men."  Even  so  he 
spake,  because  Ate  had  deceived  him  by  her 
evil  counsel.  And  Here  asked  whether  this 
should  be  so  in  very  deed,  and  Zeus  bowed 
his  head,  and  the  word  went  forth  which 
could  not  be  recalled.  Then  Here  went  to 
the  mighty  Eilcithyiai,  and  by  their  aid  she 
brought  it  about  that  Eurystheus  was  born 
before  Herakles  the  son  of  Zeus. 

So  the  lot  was  fixed  that  all  his  life  long 
Herakles  should  toil  at  the  will  of  a  weak 
and  crafty  master.  Brave  in  heart  and  stout 
of  bod\',  so  that  no  man  might  be  matched 
with  him  lor  strength  or  beauty,  3'et  was  he 
to  have  no  profit  of  all  his  labor  till  he  should 
come  to  the  land  of  the  undying  gods.  But 
it  grieved   Zeus   that   the   craft   of-  Here,  the  omt/). 

Queen,  had  brought  grievous  wrong  on  his  child,  and  he  cast 
forth  Ate  from  the  halls  of  Olympos,  that  she  might  no  more 
dwell  among  the  gods.  Then  he  spake  the  word  that  Herakles 
should  dwell  with  the  gods  in  Olympos,  as  soon  as  the  days  of 
his  toil  on  earth  should  be  ended. 

Thus  the  child  grew  in  the  house  of  Amphitr3'on,  full  of 
beauty  and  nii<dit,  so  that  men  marveled  at  his  sfreat  strensfth; 
for  as  lie  lay  one  day  sleeping,  there  came  two  serpents  into  the 
chamber,    and    twisted    their    long    coils    round    the   cradle,    and 


UKANiA  (Muse  of  A  sir  on- 


THE    TOILS    OF    HERAKLES. 


539 


peered  upon  him  with  their  cold  glassy  eyes,  till  the  sound  of 
their  hissing  woke  him  from  his  slumber.  But  Herakles  trem- 
bled not  tor  fear,  but  he  stretched  forth  his  arms  and  placed  his 
hands  on  the  serpents'  necks,  and  tightened  his  grasp  more  and 
more  till  the}'  fell  dead  on  the  ground.  Then  all  knew  by  this 
sign  that  Herakles  must  do  great  things  and  suffer  many  sorrows, 
but  that  in  the  end  he  should  win  the  victory.  So  the  child 
waxed  great  and  strong,  and  none  could  be  matched  with  him 
for  strength  of  arm  and  swiftness  of  foot  and  in  taming  of 
horses  and  in  wrestling.  The  best  men  in  Argos  were  his  teach- 
ers, and  the  wise  centaur  Cheiron  was  his  friend,  and  taught  him 
ever  to  help  the  weak  and  take  their  part  against  any  who  op- 
pressed them.  So,  for  all  his  great  strength,  none  were  more 
gentle  than  Herakles,  none  more  full  of  pity  for  those  who  were 
bowed  down  by  pain  and  labor. 

But  it  was  a  sore  grief  to  Herakles  that  all  his  life  long  he 
must  toil  for  Eurystheus,  while  others  were  full  of  joy  and  pleas- 
ure and  feasted  at  tables  laden  with  good  things.  And  so  it- 
came  to  pass  that  one  day,  as  he  thought  of  these  things,  he  sat 
down  by  the  wayside,  where  two  paths  met,  in  a  lonely  valley 
far  away  from  the  dwellings  of  men.  Suddenly,  as  he  lifted  up 
his  eyes,  he  saw  two  women  coming  towards  him,  each  from  a 
different  road.  They  were  both  fair  to  look  upon;  but  the  one 
had  a  soft  and  gentle  face,  and  she  was  clad  in  a  seemly  robe  of 
pure  white.  The  other  looked  boldly  at  Herakles,  and  her  face 
was  more  rudd}^  and  her  eyes  shone  with  a  hot  and  restless 
glare.  From  her  shoulders  streamed  the  long  folds  of  her  soft 
embroidered  robe,  which  scantily  hid  the  beauty  of  her  form 
beneath.  With  a  quick  and  eager  step  she  hastened  to  Herakles, 
ihat  she  might  be  the  first  to  speak.  And  she  said,  "  I  know, 
O  man  of  much  toil  and  sorrow,  that  thy  heart  i;  sad  within 
thee,  and  that  thou  knowest  not  which  way  thou  shalt  turn. 
Come  then  with  me,  and  I  will  lead  thee  on  a  soft  and  pleasant 


540 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


road,  where  no  storms  shall  vex  tliee  and  no  sorrows  shall  trouble 
thee.  Thou  shalt  never  hear  of  wars  and  battles,  and  sickness 
and  pain  shall  not  come  nigh  to  thee;  but  all  day  long  shalt  thou 
least  at  rich  banquets  and  listen  to  the  songs  of  minstrels.  Thou 
shalt  not  want  for  sparkling  wine,  and  soft  robes,  and  pleasant 
couches;  thou  shalt  not  lack  the  delights  of  love,  for  the  bright 
eves  of  maidens  shall  look  gently  upon  tliee,  and  their  songs  shall 
lull  thee  to  sleep  in  the  soft  evening  hour,  when  the  stars  come 
out  in  the  sky."  And  Herakles  said,  ''  Thou  promisest  to  me 
pleasant  things,  lady,  and  I  am  sorel}'  pressed  down  by  a  hard 
master.  What  is  thy  name .^"  "  M}'  friends,"  said  she,  "call 
me  the  happ}'  and  joyous  one;  and  the}'  who  look  not  upon  me 
with  lo\c  have  given  me  an  evil  name,  but  they  speak  falsely." 
Then  the  other  spake,  and  said,  ''  O  Herakles,  I,  too,  know 
whence  *thou  art,  and  the  doom  which  is  laid  upon  thee,  and  how 
thou  hast  lived  and  toiled  even  from  the  da3's  of  thy  childhood; 
and  therefore  I  think  that  thou  wilt  give  me  thy  love,  and  if  thou 
dost,  then  men  shall  speak  of  thy  good  deeds  in  time  to  come, 
and  m^'  name  shall  be  yet  tnore  exalted.  But  I  have  no  fair 
words  wherewith  to  cheat  thee.  Nothing  good  is  ever  reached 
without  labor;  nothing  great  is  ever  won  without  toil.  If  thou 
seek  for  fruit  from  the  earth  thou  must  tend  and  till  it;  if  thou 
wouldst  have  the  favor  of  the  undying  gods  thou  must  come  be- 
fore them  with  prayers  and  offerings;  if  thou  longest  for  the  love 
of  men  thou  must  do  them  good."  Then  the  other  brake  in 
upon  her  words,  and  said,  "  Thou  seest,  Herakles,  that  Arete 
seeks  to  lead  thee  on  a  long  and  weary  path,  but  m}'  broad  and 
easy  road  leads  thee  quickly  to  happiness."  Then  Arete  an- 
swered her  fand  her  eye  flashed  with  anger),  "  O  wretched  one, 
what  good  thing  hast  thou  to  give,  and  what  pleasure  canst  thou 
feel,  who  ki  owest  not  what  it  is  to  toil?  Thy  lusts  are  pam- 
pered, thy  taste  is  dull.  Thou  quaffest  the  rich  wine  before  thou 
art  thirsty,  and  fillcst  thyself  with  dainties  before  thou   art   hun 


THE    TOILS    OF    HERAKLES.  CAi 

gry.  Though  thou  art  numbered  amongst  the  undying  ones  the 
gods  have  cast  thee  forth  out  of  heaven,  and  good  men  scorn 
thee.  The  sweetest  of  all  sounds,  when  a  man's  heart  praises 
him,  thou  hast  never  heard;  the  sweetest  of  all  sights,  when  a 
man  looks  on  his  good  deeds,  thou  has  never  seen.  The}-  who 
bow  down  to  thee  are  weak  and  feeble  in  youth,  and  wretched 
and  loathsome  in  old  age.  But  I  dwell  with  the  gods  in  heaven 
and  with  good  men  on  earth;  and  without  me  nothing  good  and 
pure  may  be  thought  and  done.  More  than  all  others  am  I  hon- 
ored by  the  gods,  more  than  all  others  am  I  cherished  by  the 
men  who  love  me.  In  peace  and  in  war,  in  health  and  in  sick- 
ness, I  am  the  aid  of  all  who  seek  me;  and  my  help  never  fails. 
My  children  know  the  purest  of  all  pleasures,  when  the  hour  of 
rest  comes  after  the  toil  of  day.  In  youth  they  are  strong,  and 
their  limbs  are  quick  with  health;  in  old  age  they  look  back 
upon  a  happy  life;  and  when  they  lie  down  to  the  sleep  of  death 
their  name  is  cherished  amonsf  men  for  their  brave  and  crood 
deeds.  Love  me,  therefore,  Herakles,  and  obey  my  words,  and 
thou  shalt  dwell  with  me,  when  thy  toil  is  ended,  in  the  home  of 
the  undying  gods." 

Then  Herakles  bowed  down  his  head  and  sware  to  follow 
her  counsels;  and  when  the  two  maidens  passed  away  from  his 
sight  he  went  forth  with  a  good  courage  to  his  labor  and  suffer- 
ing. In  many  a  land  he  sojourned  and  toiled  to  do  the  will  of 
the  false  Eurystheus.  Good  deeds  he  did  for  the  sons  of  men; 
but  he  had  no  profit  of  all  his  labor,  save  the  love  of  the  gentle 
lole.  Far  away  in  Gj^chalia,  where  the  sun  rises  from  the  east- 
ern sea,  he  saw  the  maiden  in  the  halls  of  Eurytos,  and  sought 
to  win  her  love.  But  the  word  which  Zeus  spake  to  Here,  the 
Queen,  gave  him  no  rest;  and  Eurystheus  sent  him  forth  to  other 
lands,  and  he  saw  the  maiden  no  more. 

But  Herakles  toiled  on  with  a  good  heart,  and  soon  the 
glory  of  his  great  deeds  were  spread  abroad  throughout   all   the 


S4- 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY 


earth.  Minstrels  sang  how  lie  slew  the  monsters  and  savage 
beasts  who  vexed  the  sons  of  men,  how  he  smote  the  H^xlra  in 
the  land  of  Lernai,  and  the  wild  boar,  whieh  haunted  the  groves 
of  Er\manthos,  and  the  Harpies,  who  lurked  in  the  swamps  of 
St}-mphalos.  They  told  how  he  wandered  far  away  to  the  land 
of  the  setting  sun,  when  Eurystheus  bade  hi  m  pluck  the  golden 
apples  from  the  garden  of  the  Ilesperides — how,  o\er  hill  and 
dale,  across  marsh  and  river,  through  thicket  and  forest,  he  came 
to  the  western  sea,  and  crossed  to  the  African  land,  where  Atlas 
lifts  up  his  white  head  to  the  high  heaven — how  he  smote  the 
dragon  which  guarded  the  brazen  gates,  and  brought  the  apples 
to  King  Eurystheus.  They  sang  of  his  weary  journey,  when  he 
roamed  through  the  land  of  the  Ethiopians  and  came  to  the  wild 
and  desolate  heights  of  Caucasus — how  he  saw  a  giant  form 
high  on  the  naked  rock,  and  the  vulture  which  gnawed  the 
Titan's  heart  with  its  beak.  They  told  how  he  slew  the  bird, 
and  smote  off  the  cruel  chains,  and  set  Prometheus  free.  They 
sang  how  Eurystheus  laid  on  him  a  fruitless  task,  and  sent  him 
down  to  the  dark  land  of  King  Hades  to  bring  up  the  monster, 
Kerberos;  how,  upon  the  shore  of  the  gloomy  Acheron,  he  found 
the  mighty  hound  who  guards  the  home  of  Hades  and  Perseph- 
one;  how  he  seized  him  in  his  strong  right  hand  and  bore  him 
to  King  Eurystheus.  They  sang  of  the  days  when  he  toiled  in 
the  land  of  Queen  Omphale,  beneath  the  Libyan  sun;  how  he 
destroyed  the  walls  of  Ilion  when  Laomedon  was  King,  and  how 
he  went  to  Kahxlon  and  wooed  and  won  Deianeira,  the  daughter 
of  the  chieftain.  Oineus. 

Long  time  he  abode  in  Kalydon,  and  the  people  of  the  land 
loved  him  for  his  kindly  deeds.  But  one  day  his  spear  smote  the 
boy,  Eunomos,  and  his  father  was  not  angry,  because  he  knew 
that  Herakles  sought  not  to  slay  him.  Yet  Herakles  would  go 
lortli  from  the  land,  for  his  heart  was  gi-ieved  for  the  death  of 
the  child.     So  he  journeyed  to  the  banks   of  the  Evenos,  where 


THE    TOILS    OF    HEKAKLES. 


543 


he  smote  the  centaur,  Nessos,  because  he  sought  to  lay  hands  on 
Deianeira.  Swiftly  the  poison  from  the  barb  of  the  spear  ran 
through  the  centaur^s  veins;  but  Nessos  knew  how  to  avenge  him- 
self on  Herakles,  and  with  a  faint  voice  he  besousfht  Deianeira  to 
fill  a  shell  with  his  blood,  so  that,  if  ever  she  lost  the  love  of 
Herakles,  she  might  win  it  again  by  spreading  it  on  a  robe  foV 
him  to  wear. 

So  Nessos  died,  and  Herakles  went  to  the  land  of  Trachis, 
and  there  Deianeira  abode  while  he  journeyed  to  the  eastern  sea. 
Many  times  the  moon  waxed  and  waned  in  the  heaven,  and  the 
corn  sprang  up  from  the  ground  and  gave  its  golden  harvest,  but 
Herakles  came  not  back.  At  last  the  tidings  came  how  he  had 
done  great  deeds  in  distant  lands,  how  Eurytos,  the  King  of 
CEchalia,  was  slain,  and  how,  among  the  captives,  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  King,  the  fairest  of  all  the  maidens  of  the  land. 

Then  the  words  of  Nessos  came  back  to  Deianeira,  and  she 
hastened  to  anoint  a  broidered  robe,  for  she  thought  only  that 
the  love  of  Herakles  had  passed  away  from  her,  and  that  she 
must  win  it  to  herself  again.  So  with  words  of  love  and  honor, 
she  sent  the  gift  for  Herakles  to  put  on,  and  1  he  messenger  found 
him  on  the  Keneian  shore,  where  he  was  offering  rich  sacrifice  to 
Zeus,  his  father,  and  gave  him  the  broidered  robe  in  token  of 
the  love  of  Deianeira.  Then  Herakles  wrapt  it  closely  round 
him,  and  he  stood  by  the  altar  while  the  dark  smoke  went  up  in 
a  thick  cloud  to  the  heaven.  Presently  the  vengeance  of  Nessos 
was  accomplished.  Through  the  veins  of  Herakles  the  poison 
spread  like  devouring  fire.  Fiercer  and  fiercer  grew  the  burning 
pain,  and  Herakles  vainly  strove  to  tear  the  robe  and  cast  it  from 
him.  It  ate  into  the  flesh,  and  as  he  struggled  in  his  agony,  the 
dark  blood  gushed  from  his  body  in  streams.  Then  came  the 
maiden  lole  to  his  side.  With  her  gentle  hands  she  sought 
to  soothe  his  pain,  and  with  pitying  words  to  cheer  him 
in  his  woe.     Then  once  more  the  face  of  Herakles  flushed  with 


544 


RELIGION    OK    MYTHOLOGY 


a  deep  jov,  and  his  eye  glanced  with  a  pure  Hght,  as  in  the  days 
of  his  might  and  strengtli,  and  he  said,  ''  Ah,  lole,  brightest  of 
maidens,  thy  voice  shall  cheer  me  as  I  sink  down  in  the  sleep  of 
death.     I   loved  thee  in  the  bright  morning  time,  when  my  hand 

was  strong  and  my 
foot  swift,  but  Zeus 
willed  not  that  thou 
shouldst  be  with  me 
in  my  long  wander- 
ings. Yet  1  grieve 
not  now,  for  again 
thou  hast  come, 
fair  as  the  s  o  ft 
clouds  which  gather 
round  the  dying 
sun."  Then  Her- 
akles  bade  them 
bear  him  to  the  high 
crest  of  Oita  and 
gather  wood.  So 
v/hen  all  was  ready, 
he  lay  down  to  rest, 
and  they  kindled  the 
great  pile.  The 
black  mists  were 
spreading  over  the 
sky,  but  still  Hera- 
kles  sought  to  gaze 
on  the  fair  face  of 
lole  and  to  comfort 
her  in  her  sorrow.  "  Weep  not,  lole,''^  he  said,  "my  toil  is  done, 
and  now  is  the  time  for  rest.  I  sliall  see  thee  again  in  the  bright 
land  which  is  never  trodden  by  the  feet  of  night." 


JOPITER  (o/-  Zeus    irith  /us  'riitinderholt) 


THE    TOILS    OF    HERAKLES, 


545 


Blacker  and  blacker  grew  the  evening  shades,  and  only  the 
long  line  of  light  broke  the  darkness  which  gathered  round  the 
blazing  pile.  Then  from  the  high  heaven  came  down  the  thick 
cloud,  and  the  din  of  its  thunder  crashed  through  the  air.  So 
Zeus  carried  his  child  home,  and  the  halls  of  Olympos  were 
opened  to  welcome  the  bright  hero  who  rested  from  his  mighty 
toil.  There  the  fair  maiden.  Arete,  placed  a  crown  upon  his 
head,  and  Hebe  clothed  him  in  a  white  robe  for  the  banquet  of 


the  gods. 


ADM^TOp. 

There  was  high  feasting  in  the  halls  of  Pheres,  because 
Admetos,  his  son,  had  brought  home  Alkestis,  the  fairest  of  all 
the  daughters  of  Pelias,  to  be  his  bride.  The  minstrels  sang  of 
the  glories  of  the  house  of  Pherai,  and  of  the  brave  deeds  of 
Admetos — how,  by  the  aid  of  the  golden-haired  Apollo,  he  had 
yoked  the  lion  and  the  boar,  and  made  them  drag  his  chariot  to 
lolkos,  for  Pelias  had  said  that  only  to  one  who  came  thus  would 
he  give  his  daughter,  Alkestis,  to  be  his  wife.  So  the  sound  of 
mirth  and  revelry  echoed  through  the  hall,  and  the  red  wine  was 
poured  forth  in  honor  of  Zeus  and  all  the  gods,  each  by  his 
name,  but  the  name  of  Artemis  was  forgotten,  and  her  wrath 
burned  sore  against  the  house  of  Admetos. 

But  one,  mightier  yet  than  Artemis,  was  nigh  at  hand  to  aid 
him,  for  Apollo,  the  son  of  Leto,  served  as  a  bondman  in  the 
house  of  Pheres,  because  he  had  slain  the  Cyclopes,  who  forged 
the  thunderbolts  of  Zeus.  No  mortal  blood  flowed  in  his  veins, 
but,  though  he  could  neither  grow  old  nor  die,  nor  could  any  of 
the  sons  of  men  do  him  hurt,  yet  all  loved  him  for  his  gentle 
dealing,  for  all  things  had  prospered  in  the  land  from  the  day 
when  he  came  to  the  house  of  Admetos.     And  so  it  came  to  pass 

35 


546  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

that  when  the  sacrifice  of  the  marriage  feast  was  ended,  he  spake 
to  Admetos,  and  said,  '*  The  anger  of  Artemis,  my  sister,  is  kin- 
dled against  thee,  and  it  may  be  that  she  will  smite  thee  with  her 
spear,  which  can  never  miss  its  mark.  But  thou  hast  been  to 
me  a  kind  task-master,  and  though  I  am  here  as  thy  bond-ser- 
vant, yet  have  I  power  still  with  my  father,  Zeus,  and  I  have 
obtained  for  thee  this  boon,  that,  if  thou  art  smitten  by  the  spear 
of  Artemis,  thou  shalt  not  die,  if  thou  canst  find  one  who  in  thy 
stead  will  go  down  to  the  dark  kingdom  of  Flades." 

Many  a  time  the  sun  rose  up  into  the  heaven  and  sank  down 
to  sleep  beneath  the  western  waters,  and  still  the  hours  went  by 
full  of  deep  joy  to  Admetos  and  his  wife,  Alkestis,  for  their 
hearts  were  knit  together  in  a  pure  love,  and  no  cloud  of  strife 
spread  its  dark  shadow  over  thci!  souls.  Once  only  Admetos 
spake  to  her  of  the  words  of  Apollo,  and  Alkestis  answered  with 
a  smile,  "Where  is  the  pain  of  death,  my  husband,  for  those 
who  love  truly .^  Without  thee  I  care  not  to  live;  wherefore,  to 
die  for  thee  will  be  a  boon." 

Once  airain  there  was  hio^h  feasting^  in  the  house  of  Admetos, 
for  Hcrakles,  the  mighty  son  of  Alkmene,  had  come  thither  as 
he  journeyed  through  many  lands,  doing  the  will  of  the  false 
Eurystheus.  But,  even  as  the  minstrels  sang  the  praises  of  the 
chieftains  of  Pherai,  the  flush  of  life  faded  from  the  face  of 
Admetos,  and  he  felt  that  the  hour  of  which  Apollo  had  warned 
him  was  come.  But  soon  the  blood  came  back  tingling  through 
his  veins,  when  he  thought  of  the  sacrifice  which  alone  could 
save  him  from  the  sleep  of  death.  Yet  what  will  not  a  man  do 
for  his  life.^  and  how  shall  he  withstand  when  the  voice  of  love 
pleads  on  his  side?  So  once  again  the  fair  Alkestis  looked  lov- 
ingly upon  him,  as  she  said,  "  There  is  no  darkness  for  me  in 
the  land  of  Hades,  if  only  I  die  for  thee,"  and  even  as  she  spake 
the  spell  passed  from  Admetos,  and  the  strength  of  the  daughter 
of  Pelias  ebbed  slowlv  away. 


ADMETOS. 


547 


The  sound  of  mirth  and  feasting  was  hushed.  The  harps 
of  the  minstrels  hung  silent  on  the  wall,  and  men  spake  in  whis- 
pering voices,  for  the  awful  Moirai  were  at  hand  to  bear  Alkestis 
to  the  shadowy  kingdom.  On  the  couch  lay  her  fair  form,  pale 
as  the  white  lily  which  floats  on  the  blue  water,  and  beautiful  as 
Eos  when  her  light  di'^'  .^l  of  the  sky  in  the  evening.  Yet  a 
little  while,  and  the  strife  was  ended,  and  Admetos  mourned  in 
bitterness  and  shame  for  the  love  which  he  had  lost. 

Then  the  soul  of  the  brave  Herakles  was  stirred  within  him, 
and  he  sware  that  the  Moirai  should  not  win  the  victory.  So  he 
departed  in  haste,  and  far  away  in  the  unseen  land  he  did  battle 
with  the  powers  of  death,  and  rescued  Alkestis  from  Hades,  the 
stern  and  rugged  King. 

So  once  more  she  stood  before  Admetos,  more  radiant  in 
her  beauty  than  in  former  days,  and  once  more  in  the  halls  of 
Pherai  echoed  the  sound  of  high  rejoicing,  and  the  minstrels 
sang  of  the  mighty  deeds  of  the  good  and  brave  Herakles,  as  he 
went  on  his  way  from  the  home  of  Admetos  to  do  in  other  lands 
the  bidding  of  the  fair  mean  Eurystheus. 


EPlJVlETHEUg    AJ^D    PANDOf^A. 

There  was  strife  between  Zeus  and  men,  for  Prometheus 
stood  forth  on  their  side  and  taught  them  how  they  might  with- 
stand the  new  god  who  sat  on  the  throne  of  Kronos;  and  he 
said,  "  O  men,  Zeus  is  greedy  of  riches  and  honor,  and  your 
flocks  and  herds  will  be  wasted  with  burnt-offerings  if  3'e  offer 
up  to  Zeus  the  whole  victim.  Come  and  let  us  make  a  covenant 
with  him,  that  there  may  be  a  fair  portion  for  him  and  for  men." 
So  Prometheus  chose  out  a  large  ox,  and  slew  him  and  divided 
the  body.     Under  the  skin  he  placed  the  entrails  and  the  flesh, 


54c5  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

and  under  the  fat  he  placed  the  bones.  Then  he  said,  "  Choose 
th\-  portion,  O  Zeus,  and  let  that  on  which  thou  la3'est  thine 
hands  be  thy  share  forever/'  So  Zeus  stretched  forth  his  hand 
in  haste,  and  placed  it  upon  the  fat,  and  fierce  was  his  wrath 
when  he  found  only  the  bare  bones  underneath  it.  Wherefore 
men  offer  up  to  the  undying  gods  only  the  bones  and  fat  of  the 
victims  that  are  slain. 

Then  in  his  anger  Zeus  sought  how  he  might  avenge  him- 
self on  the  race  of  men,  and  he  took  away  from  them  the  gift 
of  hre,  so  that  they  were  vexed  by  cold  and  darkness  and  hun- 
ger, until  Prometheus  brought  them  down  fire  which  he  had 
stolen  from  heaven.  Then  was  the  rage  of  Zeus  still  more  cruel, 
and  he  smote  Prometheus  with  his  thunderbolts,  and  at  his  bid- 
ding Hermes  bare  him  to  he  crags  of  Caucasus,  and  bound  him 
with  iron  chains  to  the  hard  rock,  where  the  vulture  gnawed  his 
heart  with  its  beak. 

But  the  wrath  of  Zeus  was  not  appeased,  and  he  sought 
how  he  might  yet  more  vex  the  race  of  men;  and  he  remem- 
bered how  the  Titan  Prometheus  had  warned  them  to  accept  no 
gift  from  the  gods,  and  how  he  left  his  brother  Epimetheus  to 
guard  them  against  the  wiles  of  the  son  of  Kronos.  And  he 
said  within  himself,  "  The  race  of  men  knows  neither  sickness 
nor  pain,  strife  or  war,  theft  or  falsehood;  for  all  these  evil 
things  are  sealed  up  in  the  great  cask  which  is  guarded  by 
Epimetheus.  I  will  let  loose  the  evils,  and  the  whole  earth  shall 
be  filled  with  woe  and  misery." 

So  he  called  Hephaistos,  the  lord  of  fire,  and  he  said, 
"  Make  ready  a  gift  which  all  the  undying  gods  shall  give  to  the 
race  of  men.  Take  the  earth,  and  fashion  it  into  the  shape  of 
woman.  Very  fair  let  it  be  to  look  upon,  but  give  her  an  evil 
nature,  that  the  race  of  men  may  suffer  for  all  the  deeds  that 
they  have  done  to  me."  Then  Hephaistos  took  the  clay  and 
moulded  from  it  the  image  of  a  fair  woman,  and  Athene  clothed 


EPIMETHEUS    AND    PANDORA.  549 

her  in  a  beautiful  robe,  and  placed  a  crown  upon  her  head,  from 
which  a  veil  fell  over  her  snowy  shoulders.  And  Hermes,  the 
messenger  of  Zeus,  gave  her  the  power  of  words,  and  a  greedy 
mind,  to  cheat  and  deceive  the  race  of  men.  Then  tiephaistos 
brought  her  before  the  assembly  of  the  gods,  and  they  marveled 
at  the  greatness  of  her  beauty;  and  Zeus  took  her  by  the  hand 
and  gave  her  to  Epimetheus,  and  said,  "Ye  toil  hard,  ye  children 
of  men;  behold  one  who  shall  soothe  and  cheer  3'ou  when  the 
hours  of  toil  are  ended.  The  undying  gods  have  taken  pity  on 
you,  because  ye  have  none  to  comfort  you;  and  woman  is  their 
gift  to  men,  therefore  is  her  name  called  Pandora." 

Then  Epimetheus  forgot  the  warning  of  his  brother,  and 
the  race  of  men  did  obeisance  to  Zeus,  and  received  Pandora  at 
his  hands,  for  the  greatness  of  her  beauty  enslaved  the  hearts  of 
all  who  looked  upon  her.  But  they  rejoiced  not  long  in  the  gift 
of  the  gods,  for  Pandora  saw  a  great  cask  on  the  threshold  of 
the  house  of  Epimetheus,  and  she  lifted  the  lid,  and  from  it  came 
strife  and  war,  plague  and  sickness,  theft  and  violence,  grief  and 
sorrow.  Then  in  her  terror  she  set  down  the  lid  again  upon  the 
cask,  and  Hope  was  shut  up  within  it,  so  that  she  could  not  com- 
fort the  race  of  men  for  the  grievous  evil  which  Pandora  had 
brought  upon  them. 


10    AND     PI^OJVIETHEU^. 

In  the  halls  of  Inachos,  King  of  Argos,  Zeus  beheld  and 
loved  the  fair  maiden  lo,  but  when  Here,  the  Queen,  knew  it,  she 
was  very  wroth,  and  sought  to  slay  her.  Then  Zeus  changed 
the  maiden  into  a  heifer,  to  save  her  from  the  anger  of  Here, 
but  presently  Here  learned  that  the  heifer  was  the  maiden  whom 
she  hated,  and  she  went  to  Zeus,  and  said,  "  Give  me  that  which 
I  shall  desire,"  and  Zeus  answered,  "Say  on."     Then  Here  said, 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


"  Give  me  the  beautiful  heiler  which  I  see  feeding  in  the  pastures 
of  King  Inachos."  So  Zeus  granted  her  prayer,  for  he  Hked 
not  to  confess  what  he  had  done  to  lo  to  save 
her  from  the  wrath  of  Here,  and  Here  took 
the  heifer  and  bade  Argos,  with  the  hundred 
eyes,  watch  over  it  by  night  and  by  day. 

Long  time  Zeus  sought  how  he  might 
dehver  the  maiden  from  the  vengeance  of 
Here,  but  he  strove  in  vain,  for  Argos  never 
slept,  and  his  hundred  eyes  saw  everything 
around  him,  and  none  could  approach  with- 
out beino-  seen  and  slain.  At  the  last  Zeus 
sent  Hermes,  the  bright  messenger  of  the 
gods,  who  stole  gently  towards  Argos,  play- 
ing soft  music  on  his  lute.  Soothingly  the 
'^"•^'^'■^-  sweet   sounds  fell   upon   his  ear,  and   a  deep 

sleep  began  to  weigh  down  his  eyelids,  until  Argos,  with  the 
hundred  eyes,  lay  powerless  before  Hermes.  Then  Hermes 
drew  his  sharp  sword,  and  with  a  single  stroke  he  smote  off  his 
head,  wherefore  UT^n  call  him  the  slayer  of  Argos,  with  the 
hundred  eves.  BuL  the  wrath  of  Here  was  fiercer  than  ever 
when  she  learned  that  her  watchman  was  slain,  and  she  sware 
that  the  heifer  should  have  no  rest,  but  wander  in  terror  and  pain 
from  land  to  land.  So  she  sent  a  gad-fly  to  goad  the  heifer  with 
its  fiery  sting  over  hill'  and  valley,  across  sea  and  river,  to  tor- 
ment her  if  she  lay  down  to  rest,  and  madden  her  with  pain  when 
she  sought  to  sleep.  In  grief  and  madness  she  fled  from  the 
pastures  of  Inachos,  past  the  city  of  Erechtheus  into  the  land  of 
Kadmos,  the  Theban.  On  and  on  still  she  went,  resting  not  by 
night  or  day,  through  the  Dorian  and  Thessalian  plains,  until  at 
last  she  came  to  the  wild  Thrakian  land.  Her  feet  bled  on  the 
sharp  stones,  her  body  was  torn  by  the  thorns  and  brambles,  and 
tortured  by  the  stings  of  the   fearful  gad-fly.     Still  she  fled   on 


lO    AND    PROMETHEUS. 


551 


and  on,  while  the  tears  streamed  often  down  her  cheeks,  and  her 
moaning  showed  the  greatness  of  her  agony.  "  O  Zeus,"  she 
said,  "  dost  thou  not  see  me  in  my  misery.?  Thou  didst  tell  me 
once  of  thy  love,  and  dost  thou  suffer  me  now  to  be  driven  thus 
wildly  from  land  to  land,  without  hope  of  comfort  or  rest.?  Slay 
me  at  once,  I  pray  thee,  or  suffer  me  to  sink  into  the  deep  sea, 
that  so  I  may  put  off  the  sore  burden  of  my  woe." 

But  lo  knew  not  that,  while  she  spake,  one  heard  her  who 
had  suffered  even  harder  things  from  Zeus.  Far  above  her 
head,  towards  the  desolate  crags  of  Caucasus,  the  wild  eagle 
soared  shrieking  in  the  sky,  and  the  vulture  hovered  near,  as 
though  waiting  close  to  some  dying  man  till  death  should  leave 
him  for  its  prey.  Dark  snow-clouds  brooded  heavily  on  the 
mountain,  the  icy  wind  crept  lazily  through  the  frozen  air,  and  lo 
thought  that  the  hour  of  her  death  was  come.  Then,  as  she 
raised  her  head,  she  saw  far  off  a  giant  form,  which  seemed 
fastened  by  nails  to  the  naked  rock,  and  a  low  groan  reached  her 
ear,  as  of  one  in  mortal  pain,  and  she  heard  a  voice  which  said, 
"  Whence  comest  thou,  daughter  of  Inachos,  into  this  savage 
wilderness.?  Hath  the  love  of  Zeus  driven  thee  thus  to  the  icy 
corners  of  the  earth.?"  Then  lo  gazed  at  him  in  wonder  and 
awe,  and  said,  "  How  dost  thou  know  my  name  and  my  sor- 
rows.? and  what  is  thine  own  wrong.?  Tell  me  (if  it  is  given  to 
thee  to  know)  what  awaits  thee  and  me  in  the  time  to  come,  for 
sure  I  am  that  thou  art  no  mortal  man.  Thy  giant  form  is  as 
the  form  of  gods  or  heroes,  who  come  down  sometimes  to  mingle 
with  the  sons  of  men,  and  great  must  be  the  wrath  of  Zeus,  that 
thou  shouldst  be  thus  tormented  here."  Then  he  said,  "Maiden, 
thou  seest  the  Titan  Prometheus,  who  brought  down  fire  for  the 
children  of  men,  and  taught  them  how  to  build  themselves  houses 
and  till  the  earth,  and  how  to  win  for  themselves  food  and  cloth- 
ing. I  gave  them  wise  thoughts  and  good  laws  and  prudent 
counsel,  and  raised  them  from  the  life  of  beasts  to   a   life  which 


552 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


was  fit  for  speaking  men.  But  the  son  of  Kronos  was  afraid  at 
mv  doings,  lest,  with  the  aid  of  men,  I  might  hurl  him  from  his 
place  and  set  up  new  gods  upon  his  throne.  So  he  forgot  all  my 
good  deeds  in  times  past,  how  I  had  aided  him  when  the  earth- 
born  criants  sought  to  destroy  his  power  and  heaped  rock  on  rock 
and  crao-  on  crag  to  smite  him  on  his  throne,  and  he  caught  me 
by  craft,  telling  me  in  smooth  words  how  that  he  was  my  friend, 
and  that  mv  honor  should  not  fail  in  the  halls  of  Olympos.  So 
he  took  me  unawares  and  bound  me  with  iron  chains,  and  bade 
Hephaistos  take  and  fasten  me  to  this  mountain-side,  where  the 
frost  and  wind  and  heat  scorch  and  torment  me  by  day  and 
nio-ht,  and  the  vulture  gnaws  my  heart  with  its  merciless  beak. 
But  my  spirit  is  not  wholly  cast  down,  for  I  know  that  I  have 
done  good  to  the  sons  of  men,  and  that  they  honor  the  Titan 
Prometheus,  who  has  saved  them  from  cold  and  hunger  and  sick- 
ness. And  ^ell  I  know,  also,  that  the  reign  of  Zeus  shall  one 
day  come  to  an  end,  and  that  another  shall  sit  at  length  upon  his 
throne,  even  as  now  he  sits  on  the  throne  of  his  father,  Kronos. 
Hither  come,  also,  those  who  seek  to  comfort  me,  and  thou  seest 
before  thee  the  daughters  of  Okeanos,  who  have  but  now  left  the 
green  halls  of  their  father  to  talk  with  me.  Listen,  then,  to  me, 
daughter  of  Inachos,  and  I  will  tell  thee  what  shall  befall  thee  in 
time  to  come.  Hence  from  the  ice-bound  chain  of  Caucasus 
thou  shalt  roam  into  the  Scythian  land  and  the  regions  of 
Chalybes.  Thence  thou  shalt  come  to  the  dwelling-place  of  the 
Amazons,  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Thermodon;  these  shall 
guide  thee  on  thy  way,  until  at  length  thou  shalt  come  to  a  strait, 
which  thou  wilt  cross,  and  which  shall  tell  by  its  name  forever 
where  the  heifer  passed  from  Europe  into  Asia.  But  the  end  of 
thy  wanderings  is  not  yet/' 

Then  lo  could  no  longer  repress  her  grief,  and  her  tears 
burst  forth  afresh;  and  Prometheus  said,  "  Daughter  of  Inachos, 
if  thou  sorrowest  thus  at  what  I  have  told  thee,  how  wilt   thou 


lO    AND    PROMETHEUS. 


553 


bear  to  hear  what  beyond  these  things  there  remains  for  thee  to 
do?"  But  lo  said,  "  Of  what  use  is  it,  O  Titan,  to  tell  me  of 
these  woeful  wanderings?  Better  were  it  now  to  die  and  be  at 
rest  from  all  this  misery  and  sorrow."  "  Nay,  not  so,  O  maiden 
of  Argos,"  said  Prometheus,  "  for  if  thou  livest,  the  days  will 
come  when  Zeus  shall  be  cast  down  from  his  throne,  and  the  end 
of  his  reign  shall  also  be  the  end  of  my  sufferings.  For  when 
thou  hast  passed  by  the  Thrakian  Bosporos  into  the  land  of  Asia, 
thou  wilt  wanfler  on  through  many  regions,  where  the  Goro-ons 
dwell,  and  the  Arimaspians  aod  Ethiopians,  until  at  last  thou 
shalt  come  to  the  three-cornered  land  where  the  might}'  Nile 
goes  out  by  its  many  arms  into  the  sea.  There  shall  be  thy 
resting-place,  and  there  shall  Epaphos,  thy  son,  be  born,  from 
whom,  in  times  yet  far  away,  shall  spring  the  great  Herakles, 
who  shall  break  my  chain  and  set  me  free  from  m}-  long  tor- 
ments. And  if  in  this  thou  doubtest  my  words,  I  can  tell  thee 
of  ever}'  land  through  which  thou  hast  passed  on  thy  journey 
hither;  but  it  is  enough  if  I  tell  thee  how  the  speaking  oaks  of 
Dodona  hailed  thee  as  one  day  to  be  the  wife  of  Zeus  and  the 
mother  of  the  mighty  Epaphos.  Hasten,  then,  on  thy  way, 
daughter  of  Inachos.  Long  years  of  pain  and  sorrow  await  thee 
still,  but  my  griefs  shall  endure  for  many  generations.  It  avails 
not  now  to  weep,  but  this  comfort  thou  hast,  that  thy  lot  is  hap- 
pier than  mine,  and  for  both  of  us  remains  the  surety  that  the  right 
shall  at  last  conquer,  and  the  power  of  Zeus  shall  be  brought  low, 
even  as  the  power  of  Kronos,  whom  he  hurled  from  his  ancient 
throne.  Depart  hence  quickly,  for  I  see  Hermes,  the  messenger, 
drawing  nigh,  and  perchance  he  comes  with  fresh  torments  for 
thee  and  me." 

So  lo  went  on  her  weary  road,  and  Hermes  drew  nigh  to 
Prometheus,  and  bade  him  once  again  yield  himself  to  the  will 
of  the  mighty  Zeus.  But  Prometheus  laughed  him  to  scorn,  and 
as  Hermes   turned   to   go   away,   the   icy  wind   came  shrieking 


554 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


throup-h  the  air,  and  the  dark  cloud  sank  lower  and  lower  dowa 
the  hillside,  until  it  covered  the  rock  on  which  the  body  of  the 
Titan  was  nailed,  and  the  great  mountain  heaved  with  the  earth- 
quake, and  the  blazing  thunderbolts  darted  fearfully  through  the 
sky.  Brighter  and  brighter  flashed  the  lightning,  and  louder 
pealed  the  thunder  in  the  ears  of  Prometheus,  but  he  quailed  not 
for  all  the  fiery  majesty  of  Zeus,  and  still,  as  the  storm  grew 
fiercer  and  the  curls  of  fire  were  wreathed  around  his  form,  his 
voice  was  heard  amid  the  din  and  roar,  and  it  spake  of  the  day 
when  the  good  shall  triumph  and  unjust  power  shall  be  crushed 
and  destroyed  forever. 


DEUKALION. 

From  his  throne  on  the  high  Olympos,  Zeus  looked  down 
on  the  children  of  men,  and  saw  that  everywhere  they  followed 
only  their  lusts,  and  cared  nothing  for  right  or  for  law. 
And  ever,  as  their  hearts  waxed  grosser  in  their  wickedness,, 
they  devised  for  themselves  new  rites  to  appease  the  anger  of 
the  gods,  till  the  whole  earth  was  filled  with  blood.  Far  away 
in  the  hidden  glens  of  the  Arcadian  hills  the  sons  of  Lykaon 
feasted  and  spake  proud  words  against  the  majesty  of  Zeus,  and 
Zeus  himself  came  down  from  his  throne  to  see  their  way  and 
their  doings. 

The  sun  was  sinking  down  in  the  sky  when  an  old  man 
drew  nigh  to  the  gate  of  Lykosoura.  His  gray  locks  streamed 
in  the  breeze,  and  his  beard  fell  in  tangled  masses  over  his  tat- 
tered mantle.  With  staff  in  hand  he  plodded  wearily  on  his 
way,  listening  to  the  sound  of  revelry  which  struck  upon  his  ear. 
At  last  he  came  to  the  Agora,  and  the  sons  of  Lykaon  crowded 
r^und  him.     "  So  the  wise  seer  is  come,"  they  said;  "  what  tale 


DEUKALION. 


555 


hast  thou  to  tell  us,  old  man?     Canst  thou  sing  of  the  days  when 
the  earth  came  forth  from  Chaos?     Thou  art  old  enough  to  have 


lAOCOON,  THE  FALSE  PRIEST.     (Sculptured  3000  years  ago.) 

been  there  to  see."     Then  with  rude  jeering  they  seized  him  and 
placed  him  on  the  ground  near  the  place  where  they  were  feast- 


^^6  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

incT.  "  We  have  done  a  great  sacrifice  to  Zeus  this  day,  and 
thy  coming  is  timely,  for  thou  shalt  share  the  banquet.'"  So 
they  placed  before  him  a  dish,  and  the  food  that  was  in  it  was 
the  flesh  of  man,  for  with  the  blood  of  men  they  thought  to  turn 
aside  the  anger  of  the  gods.  But  the  old  man  thrust  aside  the 
dish,  and,  as  he  rose  up,  the  weariness  of  age  passed  away  from 
his  Ihce,  and  the  sons  of  Lykaon  were  scorched  by  the  glory  of 
his  countenance,  for  Zeus  stood  before  them  and  scathed  them 
all  with  his  lightnings,  and  their  ashes  cumbered  the  ground. 

Then  Zeus  returned  to  his  home  on  Olympos,  and  he  gave 
the  word  that  a  flood  of  waters  should  be  let  loose  upon  the 
earth,  that  the  sons  of  men  might  die  for  their  great  wickedness. 
So  the  west  wind  rose  in  his  might,  and  the  dark  rain-clouds 
veiled  the  whole  heaven,  for  the  winds  of  the  north  which  drive 
away  the  mists  and  vapors  were  shut  up  in  their  prison-house. 
On  the  hill  and  valley  burst  the  merciless  rain,  and  the  rivers, 
loosened  from  their  courses,  rushed  over  the  wide  plains  and  up 
the  mountain-side.  From  his  home  on  the  highlands  of  Phthia, 
Deukalion  looked  forth  on  the  angry  sky,  and,  when  he  saw  the 
waters  swelling  in  the  valleys  beneath,  he  called  Pyrrha,  his 
wife,  the  daughter  of  Epimetheus,  and  said  to  her,  "  The  time 
is  come  of  which  my  father,  the  wise  Prometheus,  forewarned 
me.  Make  ready,  therefore,  the  ark  which  I  have  built,  and 
place  in  it  all  that  we  may  need  for  food  while  the  flood  of 
waters  is  out  upon  the  earth.  Far  away  on  the  crags  of  Cau- 
casus the  iron  nails  rend  the  flesh  of  Prometheus,  and  the  vul- 
ture gnaws  his  heart,  but  the  words  which  he  spake  are  being 
fulfilled,  that  for  the  wickedness  of  men  the  flood  of  waters 
would  come  upon  the  earth,  for  Zeus  himself  is  but  the  servant 
of  one  that  is  mightier  than  he,  and  must  do  his  bidding." 

Then  Pyrrha  hastened  to  make  all  things  read}',  and  they 
waited  until  the  waters  rose  up  to  the  highlands  of  Phthia  and 
floated  away  the  ark   of  Deukalion.      The  fishes   swam   amidst 


DEUKALION. 


557 


the  old  elm  groves,  and  twined  amongst  the  gnarled  boughs  of 
the  oaks,  while  on  the  face  of  the  waters  were  tossed  the  bodies 
of  men,  and  Deukalion  looked  on  the  dead  faces  of  stalwart 
warriors,  of  maidens,  and  of  babes,  as  they  rose  and  fell  upon 
the  heaving  waves.  Eight  days  the  ark  was  borne  on  the 
flood,  while  the  waters  covered  the  hills,  and  all  the  children  of 
men  died  save  a  few  who  found  a  place  of  shelter  on  the  summit 
of  the  mountains.  On  the  ninth  day  the  ark  rested  on  the 
heights  of  Parnassos,  and  Deukalion,  with  his  wife  Pyrrha, 
stepped  forth  upon  the  desolate  earth.  Hour  by  hour  the  waters 
fled  down  the  valleys,  and  dead  fishes  and  sea-monsters  lay- 
caught  in  the  tangled  branches  of  the  Ibrest.  But,  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach,  there  was  no  sign  of  living  thing,  save  of  the 
vultures  who  wheeled  in  circles  through  the  heaven  to  swoop 
upon  their  prey,  and  Deukalion  looked  on  Pyrrha,  and  their 
hearts  were  filled  with  a  grief  which  can  not  be  told.  "  We 
know  not,^'  he  said,  "  whether  there  live  any  one  of  all  the  sons 
of  men,  or  in  what  hour  the  sleep  of  death  may  fall  upon  us. 
But  the  mighty  being  who  sent  the  flood  has  saved  us  from  its 
waters;  to  him  let 'us  build  an  altar  and  bring  our  thankoflfering." 
So  the  altar  was  built  and  Zeus  had  respect  to  the  prayer  of 
Deukalion,  and  presently  Hermes,  the  messenger,  stood  before 
him,  "  Ask  what  thou  wilt,"  he  said,  "  and  it  shall  be  granted 
thee,  for  in  thee  alone  of  all  the  sons  of  men  hath  Zeus  found  a 
clean  hand  and  a  pure  heart."  Then  Deukalion  bowed  himself 
before  Hermes,  and  said,  "  The  whole  earth  lies  desolate;  I  pra}^ 
thee,  let  men  be  seen  upon  it  once  more."  "  Even  so  shall  it 
come  to  pass,"  said  Hermes,  "  if  ye  will  cover  your  faces  with 
your  mantles  and  cast  the  bones  of  your  mother  behind  you  as 
ye  go  upon  your  wa}'." 

So  Hermes  departed  to  the  home  of  Zeus,  and  Deukalion 
pondered  his  words,  till  the  wisdom  of  his  father,  Prometheus, 
showed  him  that  his  mother  was  the  earth,  and  that  they  were  to 


558 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


cast  the  stones  behind  them  as  they  went  down  from  Parnassos. 
Then  they  did  each  as  they  were  bidden,  and  the  stones  which 
DeukaHon  threw  were  turned  into  men,  but  those  which  were 
thrown  by  Pyrrha  became  women,  and  the  people  which  knew 
neither  father  nor  mother  went  forth  to  their  toil  throughout  the 
wide  earth.  The  sun  shone  brightly  in  the  heaven  and  dried  up 
the  slime  beneath  them ;  yet  was  their  toil  but  a  weary  labor, 
and  so  hath  it  been  until  this  day — a  struggle  hard  as  the  stones 
from  which  they  have  been  taken. 

But  as  the  years  passed  on,  there  were  children  born  to 
Pyrrha  and  Deukalion,  and  the  old  race  of  men  still  lived  on  the 
heights  of  Phthia.  From  Helen  their  son,  sprang  the  mighty 
tribes  of  the  Hellenes,  and  from  Protogeneia,  their  daughter,  was 
born  Aethlios,  the  man  of  toil  and  suffering,  the  father  of  Endy- 
mion,  the  fair,  who  sleeps  on  the  hill  of  Latmos. 


POgElDOJN    AJ^D   ATHEfNlE. 

Near  the  banks  of  the  stream  Kephisos,  Erechtheus  had 
built  a  city  in  a  rocky  and  thin-soiled  land.  He  was  the  father 
of  a  free  and  brave  people,  and  though  his  city  was  small  and 
humble,  yet  Zeus,  by  his  wisdom,  foresaw  that  one  day  it  would 
become  the  noblest  of  all  cities  throughout  the  wide  earth.  And 
there  was  a  strife  between  Poseidon,  the  lord  of  the  sea,  and 
Athene,  the  virgin  child  of  Zeus,  to  see  by  whose  name  the  city 
of  Erechtheus  should  be  called.  So  Zeus  appointed  a  day  in 
which  he  would  judge  between  them  in  presence  of  the  great 
gods  who  dwell  on  high  Olympos. 

When  the  day  was  come,  the  gods  sat  each  on  his  golden 
throne,  on  the  banks  of  the  stream  Kephisos.  Fligh  above  all 
was  the  throne  of  Zeus,  the  great  father  of  gods   and    men,  and 


POSEIDON    AND    ATHENE. 


559 


by  his  side  sat  Here,  the  Queen.  This  day  even  the  suns  oi" 
men  might  gaze  upon  them,  for  Zeus  had  laid  aside  his  Hghtnin^s, 
and  all  the  gods  had  come  down  in  peace  to  listen  to  his  judo-- 
ment  between  Poseidon  and  Athene.  There  sat  Phcebus  Apollo 
with  his  golden  harp  in  his  hand.  His  face  glistened  for  the 
brightness  of  his  beauty,  but  there  was  no  anger  in  his  gleaming 
eye,  and  idle  by  his  side  lay  the  unerring  spear,  with  which  he 
smites  all  who  deal  falsely  and  speak  lies.  There,  beside  him, 
sat  Artemis,  his  sister,  whose  days  were  spent  in  chasing  the 
beasts  of  the  earth  and  in  sporting  with  the  nymphs  on  the  reedy 
banks  of  Eurotas.  There,  by  the  side  of  Zeus,  sat  Hermes,  ever 
bright  and  youthful,  the  spokesman  of  the  gods,  with  staff  in 
hand,  to  do  the  will  of  the  great  father.  There  sat  Hephaistos, 
the  lord  of  fire,  and  Hestia,  who  guards  the  hearth.  There,  too, 
was  Ares,  who  delights  in  war,  and  Dionysos,  who  loves  the 
banquet  and  the  wine-cup,  and  Aphrodite,  who  rose  from  the  sea- 
foam,  to  fill  the  earth  with  laughter  and  woe. 

Before  them  all  stood  the  great  rivals,  awaiting  the  judg- 
ment of  Zeus.  High  in  her  left  hand,  Athene  held  the  invinci- 
ble spear,  and  on  her  aegis,  hidden  from  mortal  sight,  was  the 
face  on  which  no  man  may  gaze  and  live.  Close  beside  her, 
proud  in  the  greatness  of  his  power,  Poseidon  waited  the  issue 
of  the  contest.  In  his  right  hand  gleamed  the  trident,  with 
which  he  shakes  the  earth  and  cleaves  the  waters  of  the  sea. 

Then,  from  his  golden  seat,  rose  the  spokesman,  Hermes, 
and  his  clear  voice  sounded  over  all  the  great  council.  "  Listen," 
he  said,  "  to  the  will  of  Zeus,  who  judges  now  between  Poseidon 
and  Athene.  The  city  of  Erechtheus  shall  bear  the  name  of 
that  o-od  who  shall  brinof  forth  out  of  the  earth  the  best  s^ift  for 
the  sons  of  men.  If  Poseidon  do  this,  the  city  shall  be  called 
Poseidonia,  but  if  Athene  brings  the  higher  gift  it  shall  be  called 
Athens.'' 

Then  King  Poseidon  rose  up  in  the  greatness  of  his  majesty, 


560  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

and  with  his  trident  he  smote  the  earth  where  he  stood.  Straight- 
way tile  hill  was  shaken  to  its  depths,  and  the  earth  clave 
asunder,  and  forth  from  the  chasm  leaped  a  horse,  such  as  never 
shall  be  seen  again  for  strength  and  beauty.  His  body  shone 
white  all  over  as  the  driven  snow,  his  mane  streamed  proudly  in 
the  wind  as  he  stamped  on  the  ground  and  scoured  in  very 
wantonness  over  hill  and  valley.  "Behold  m}^  gift,"  said  Posei- 
don, "  and  call  the  city  after  my  name.  Who  shall  give  aught 
better  than  the  horse  to  the  sons  of  men?" 

But  Athene  looked  steadfastly  at  the  gods  with  her  keen  gray 
eye,  and  she  stooped  slowly  down  to  the  ground,  and  planted  in 
it  a  little  seed,  which  she  held  in  her  right  hand.  She  spoke  no 
word,  but  still  gazed  calmly  on  that  great  council.  Presently 
they  saw  springing  from  the  earth  a  little  germ,  which  grew^  up 
and  threw  out  its  boughs  and  leaves.  Higher  and  higher  it  rose, 
with  all  its  thick  green  foliage,  and  put  forth  fruit  on  its  cluster- 
ing branches.  "  My  gift  is  better,  O  Zeus,"  she  said,  "  than  that 
of  King  Poseidon.  The  horse  which  he  has  given  shall  bring 
war  and  strife  and  anguish  to  the  children  of  men;  my  olive-tree 
is  the  sign  of  peace  and  plenty,  of  health  and  strength,  and  the 
pledge  of  happiness  and  freedom.  Shall  not,  then,  the  city  of 
Erechtheus  be  called  after  my  name.'^" 

Then  with  one  accord  rose  the  voices  of  the  gods  in  the  air, 
as  thev  cried  out,  "  The  gift  of  Athene  is  the  best  which  may  be 
given  to  the  sons  of  men;  it  is  the  token  that  the  cit}-  of  Erech- 
theus shall  be  greater  in  peace  than  in  war,  and  nobler  in  its 
freedom  than  its  power.     Let  the  city  be  called  Athens." 

Then  Zeus,  the  mighty  son  of  Kronos,  bowed  his  head  in 
sign  of  judgment  that  the  city  should  be  called  by  the  name  of 
Athene.  From  his  head  the  immortal  locks  streamed  down,  and 
the  earth  trembled  beneath  his  feet  as  he  rose  from  his  jrolden 
throne  to  return  to  the  halls  of  Ol3^mpos.  But  still  Athene  stood 
gazing  over  the  land  which  was  now  her  own;  and  she  stretched 


POSEIDON    AND    ATHENE.  561 

out  her  spear  towards  the  city  of  Erechtheus,  and  said:  "  I  have 
won  the  victory,  and  here  shall  be  my  home.  Here  shall  my 
children  grow  up  in  happiness  and  freedom,  and  hither  shall  the 
sons  of  men  come  to  learn  of  law  and  order.  Here  shall  they 
see  what  great  things  may  be  done  by  mortal  hands  when  aided 
by  the  gods  who  dwell  on  Olympos,  and  when  the  torch  of  free- 
dom has  gone  out  at  Athens,  its  light  shall  be  handed  on  to  other 
lands,  and  men  shall  learn  that  my  gift  is  still  the  best,  and  they 
shall  say  that  reverence  tor  law  and  freedom  of  thought  and 
deed  has  come  to  them  from  the  city  of  Erechtheus,  which  bears 
the  name  of  Athene." 


MEDUSA. 

In  the  far  western  land,  where  the  Hesperides  guard  the 
golden  apples  which  Gaia  gave  to  the  lady  Here,  dwelt  the 
maiden  Medusa,  with  her  sisters  Stheino  and  Euryale,  in  their 
lonely  and  dismal  home.  Between  them  and  the  land  of  living 
men  flowed  the  gentle  stream  of  ocean,  so  that  only  the  name  of 
the  Gorgon  sisters  was  known  to  the  sons  of  men,  and  the  heart 
of  Medusa  yearned  in  vain  to  see  some  face  which  might  look 
on  her  with  love  and  pity,  for  on  her  lay  the  doom  of  death,  but 
her  sisters  could  neither  grow  old  nor  die.  For  them  there  was 
nothing  fearful  in  the  stillness  of  their  gloomy  home,  as  they  sat 
with  stern,  unpitying  faces,  gazing  on  the  silent  land  beyond  the 
ocean  stream.  But  Medusa  wandered  to  and  fro,  longing  to  see 
something  new  in  a  home  to  which  no  change  ever  came,  and 
her  heart  pined  for  lack  of  those  things  which  gladden  the  souls- 
of  mortal  men.  For  where  she  dwelt  there  was  neither  day  nor 
night.  She  never  saw  the  bright  children  of  Helios  driving  liis 
flocks  to  their  pastures  in  the  morning.  She  never  beheld  the 
stars  as  they  look  out  from   the  sky,  when   the   sun   sinks   down 

36 


-62  RELIGION    OK    MYTHOLOGY. 

into. his  golden  cup  in  the  evening.  There  no  clouds  ever  passed 
across  the  heaven,  no  breeze  ever  whispered  in  the  air,  but  a 
pale  yellow  light  brooded  on  the  land  everlastingly.  So  there 
rested  on  the  lace  of  Medusa  a  sadness  such  as  the  children  of 
men  may  never  feel;  and  the  look  of  hopeless  pain  was  the 
more  terrible  because  of  the  greatness  of  her  beauty.  She  spake 
not  to  any  of  her  awful  grief,  for  her  sisters  knew  not  of  any 
such  thing  as  gentleness  and  love,  and  there  was  no  comfort  for 
her  from  the  fearful  Graiai  who  were  her  kinsfolk.  Sometimes 
she  sought  them  out  in  their  dark  caves,  for  it  was  something  to 
see  even  the  faint  glimmmer  of  the  light  of  day  which  reached  the 
dwelling  of  the  Graiai,  but  they  spake  not  to  her  a  word  of  hope 
when  she  told  them  of  her  misery,  and  she  wandered  back  to  the 
land  which  the  light  of  Helios  might  never  enter.  Her  brow 
was  knit  with  pain,  but  no  tear  wetted  her  cheek,  for  her  grief 
was  too  great  for  weeping. 

But  harder  things  3'et  were  in  store  for  Medusa,  for  Athene, 
the  daughter  of  Zeus,  came  from  the  Libyan  land  to  the  dwell- 
ing of  the  Gorgon  sisters,  and  she  charged  Medusa  to  go  with 
her  to  the  gardens  where  the  children  of  Hesperos  guard  the 
golden  apples  of  the  lady  Here.  Then  Medusa  bowed  herself 
down  at  the  feet  of  Athene,  and  besought  her  to  have  pity  on 
her  changeless  sorrow,  and  she  said,  ''  Child  of  Zeus,  thou 
dwellest  with  thy  happy  kinsfolk,  where  Helios  gladdens  all  with 
his  light  and  the  Horai  lead  the  glad  dance  when  Phoebus 
touches  the  strings  of  his  golden  harp.  Here  there  is  neither 
night  nor  day,  nor  cloud  or  breeze  or  storm.  Let  me  go  forth 
from  this  horrible  land  and  look  on  the  face  of  mortal  men,  for  I, 
too,  must  die,  and  my  heart  yearns  for  the  love  which  my  sisters 
scorn."  Then  Athene  looked  on  her  sternly,  and  said,  "  What 
hast  thou  to  do  with  love?  and  what  is  the  love  of  men  for  one 
who  is  of  kin  to  the  beings  who  may  not  die.'*  Tarry  here  till 
thy  doom    is   accomplished,  and   then   it   may  be   that   Zeus  will 


MEDUSA. 


563 


grant  thee  a  place  among  those  who  dwell  in  his  glorious  home.'* 
But  Medusa  said,  "  Lady,  let  me  go  forth  now.  I  can  not  tell 
how  many  ages  ma}'  pass  before  I  die,  and  thou  knowest  not  the 
yearning  which  tills  the  heart  of  mortal  things  for  tenderness  and 
love.'"  Then  a  look  of  anger  came  over  the  fair  face  of  Athene, 
and  she  said,  "  Trouble  me  not.  Thy  prayer  is  vain,  and  the 
sons  of  men  would  shrink  from  thee,  if  thou  couldst  go  among 


GRECIAN  ALTAR.     {3000  years  old.) 

them,  for  hardly  could  they  look  on  the  woeful  sorrow  of  thy 
countenance."  But  Medusa  answered,  gently,  "  Lady,  hope 
has  a  wondrous  power  to  kill  the  deepest  grief,  and  in  the  pure 
light  of  Helios  my  face  may  be  as  fair  as  thine." 

Then  the  anger  of  Athene  became  fiercer  still,  and  she  said, 
"Dost  thou  dare  to  vie  with  me?     I  stand  by  the  side  of  Zeus, 


564  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

to  do  his  will,  and  the  splendor  of  his  glory  rests  upon  me,  and 
what  art  thou,  that  thou  shouldst  speak  to  me  such  words  as 
these?  Therefore,  hear  thy  doom.  Henceforth,  if  mortal  man 
ever  look  upon  thee,  one  glance  of  thy  face  shall  turn  him  to 
stone.  Thy  beauty  shall  still  remain,  but  it  shall  be  to  thee  the 
blackness  of  death.  The  hair  which  streams  in  golden  tresses 
over  thy  fair  shoulders  shall  be  changed  into  hissing  snakes, 
which  shall  curl  and  cluster  round  thy  neck.  On  thy  counte- 
nance shall  be  seen  only  fear  and  dread,  that  so  all  mortal  things 
which  look  on  thee  may  die."  So  Athene  departed  from  her, 
and  the  blackness  of  the  great  horror  rested  on  the  face  of 
Medusa,  and  the  hiss  of  the  snakes  was  heard  as  they  twined 
around  her  head  and  their  coils  were  wreathed  about  her  neck. 
Yet  the  will  of  Athene  was  not  wholly  accomplished,  for  the  heart 
of  Medusa  was  not  changed  by  the  doom  which  gave  to  her  face 
its  deadly  power,  and  she  said,  "  Daughter  of  Zeus,  there  is  hope 
yet,  for  thou  hast  left  me  mortal  still,  and,  one  day,  I  shall  die." 


DANAE. 

From  the  home  of  Phoebus  Apollo,  at  Delphi,  came  words 
of  warning  to  Akrisios,  the  King  of  Argos,  when  he  sent  to  ask 
what  should  befall  him  in  the  after  days,  and  the  warning  was 
that  he  should  be  slain  by  the  son  of  his  daughter,  Danae.  So 
the  love  of  Akrisios  was  changed  towards  his  child,  who  was 
growing  up  fair  as  the  flowers  of  spring,  in  her  father's  house, 
and  he  shut  her  up  in  a  dungeon,  caring  nothing  for  her  wretched- 
ness. But  the  power  of  Zeus  was  greater  than  the  power  of 
Akrisios,  and  Danae  became  the  mother  of  Perseus,  and  they 
called  her  child  the  Son  of  the  Bright  Morning,  because  Zeus 
had  scattered  the  darkness  of  her  prison-house.  Then  Akrisios 
feared  exceedingly,  and  he  spake  the  word  that  Danae  and  her 
child  should  die. 


DANAE. 


565 


The  first  streak  of  day  was  spreading  its  faint  light  in  the 
eastern  sky  when  they  led  Danae  to  the  sea-shore,  and  put  her  in 
a  chest,  with  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  flask  of  water.  Her  child 
slept  in  her  arms,  and  the  rocking  of  the  waves,  as  they  bore 
the  chest  over  the  heaving  sea,  made  him  slumber  yet  more 
sweetly,  and  the  tears  of  Danae  fell  on  him  as  she  thought  of  the 
days  that  were  past  and  the  death  which  she  must  die  in  the 
dark  waters.  And  she  prayed  to  Zeus,  and  said,  "  O  Zeus,  who 
hast  given  me  my  child,  canst  thou  hear  me  still  and  save  me 
from  this  terrible  doom?"  Then  a  deep  sleep  came  over  Danae, 
and,  as  she  slept  with  the  babe  in  her  arms,  the  winds  carried 
the  chest  at  the  bidding  of  Poseidon,  and  cast  it  forth  on  the 
shore  of  the  island  of  Seriphos. 

Now  it  so  chanced  that  Diktys,  the  brother  of  Polydektes, 
the  King  of  the  Island,  was  casting  a  net 
into  the  sea,  when  he  saw  something  thrown 
up  by  the  waves  on  the  dry  land,  and  he 
went  hastily  and  took  Danae  with  her 
child  out  of  the  chest,  and  said,  "  Fear 
not,  lady,  no  harm  shall  happen  to  thee 
here,  and  they  who  have  dealt  hardly  with 
thee  shall  not  come  nigh  to  hurt  thee  in 
this  land."  So  he  led  her  to  the  house  of 
King  Polydektes,  who  welcomed  her  to 
his  home,  and  Danae  had  rest  after  all  her 
troubles. 

Thus  the  time  went  on,  and  the  child 
Perseus  grew  up  brave  and  strong,  and  all 
who  saw  him  marveled  at  his  beauty.  The 
light  of  early  morning  is  not  more  pure 
than  was  the  color  on  his  fair  cheeks,  and 
the  golden  locks  streamed  brightly  over  his  shoulders,  like  the 
rays  of  the  sun  when  they  rest   on   the   hills   at  midday.      And 


THEMIS  (Goddess  of  Law). 


^66  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

Danae  said,  "  My  child,  in  the  land  where  thou  wast  born,  they 
called  thee  the  Son  of  the  Bright  Morning.  Keep  thy  faith,  and 
deal  justly  with  all  men ;  so  shalt  thou  deserve  the  name  which 
they  gave  thee."  Thus  Perseus  grew  up,  hating  all  things  that 
were  mean  and  wrong,  and  all  who  looked  on  him  knew  that  his 
hands  were  clean  and  his  heart  pure. 

But  there  were  evil  days  in  store  for  Danae — for  King  Poly- 
dektes  sought  to  win  her  love  against  her  will.  Long  time  he 
besought  her  to  hearken  to  his  prayer,  but  her  heart  was  far 
away  in  the  land  of  Argos,  where  her  child  was  born,  and  she 
said,  "O  King,  my  life  is  sad  and  weary;  what  is  there  in  me 
that  thou  shouldst  seek  my  love.^  There  are  maidens  in  thy 
kingdom  fairer  far  than  I;  leave  me,  then,  to  take  care  of  my 
child  while  we  dwell  in  a  strange  land."  Then  Polydektes  said, 
hastily,  "  Think  not,  lady,  to  escape  me  thus.  If  thou  wilt  not 
hearken  to  my  words,  thy  child  shall  not  remain  with  thee,  but  I 
will  send  him  forth  far  away  into  the  western  land,  that  he  may 
bring  me  the  head  of  the  Gorgon  Medusa, 

So  Danae  sat  weeping  when  Polydektes  had  left  her,  and 
when  Perseus  came  he  asked  her  why  she  mourned  and  wept, 
and  he  said,  "  Tell  me,  my  mother,  if  the  people  of  this  land 
have  done  thee  wrong,  and  I  will  take  a  sword  in  my  hand  and 
smite  them."  Then  Danae  answered,  "  Many  toils  await  thee 
in  time  to  come,  but  here  thou  canst  do  nothing.  Only  be  of 
good  courage,  and  deal  truly,  and  one  day  thou  shalt  be  able  to 
save  me  from  my  enemies." 

Still,  as  the  months  went  on,  Pol3'dektes  sought  to  gain  the 
love  of  Danae,  until  at  last  he  began  to  hate  her  because  she 
would  not  listen  to  his  prayer.  And  he  spake  the  word,  that 
Perseus  must  go  forth  to  slay  Medusa,  and  that  Danae  must,  be 
shut  up  in  a  dungeon  until  the  boy  should  return  from  the  land 
of  the  Graiai  and  the  Gorgrons. 

So  once  more  Danae  lay  within  a  prison,  and  the  boy  Per- 


DANAE. 


567 


seus  came  to  bid  her  farewell  before  he  set  out  on  his  weary 
journey.  Then  Danae  folded  her  arms  around  him,  and  looked 
sadly  into  his  eyes,  and  said,  "  My  child,  whatever  a  mortal 
man  can  do  for  his  mother,  that,  I  know,  thou  wilt  do  for  me, 
but  I  can  not  tell  whither  thy  long  toils  shall  lead  thee,  save  that 
the  land  of  the  Gorgons  lies  beyond  the  slow-rolling  stream  of 
Ocean.  Nor  can  I  tell  how  thou  canst  do  the  bidding  of  Poly- 
dektes,  for  Medusa  alone  of  the  Gorgon  sisters  may  grow  old 
and  die,  and  the  deadly  snakes  will  slay  those  who  come  near, 
and  one  glance  of  her  woeful  eye  can  turn  all  mortal  things  to 
stone.  Once,  they  say,  she  was  fair  to  look  upon,  but  the  lady 
Athene  has  laid  on  her  a  dark  doom,  so  that  all  who  see  the 
Gorgon's  face  must  die.  It  may  be,  Perseus,  that  the  heart  of 
Medusa  is  full  rather  of  grief  than  hatred,  and  that  not  of  her 
own  will  the  woeful  glare  of  her  eye  changes  all  mortal  things 
into  stone,  and,  if  so  it  be,  then  the  deed  which  thou  art  charged 
to  do  shall  set  her  free  from  a  hateful  life,  and  bring  to  her  some 
of  those  good  things  for  which  now  she  3'earns  in  vain.  Go,  then, 
my  child,  and  prosper.  Thou  hast  a  great  warfare  before  thee, 
and  though  I  know  not  how  thou  canst  win  the  victory,  yet  I 
know  that  true  and  fair  dealing  gives  a  wondrous  might  to  the 
children  of  men,  and  Zeus  will  strengthen  the  arm  of  those  who 
hate  treachery  and  lies." 

Then  Perseus  bade  his  mother  take  courage,  and  vowed  a 
vow  that  he  would  not  trust  in  craft  and  falsehood,  and  he  said, 
"  I  know  not,  my  mother,  the  dangers  and  the  foes  which  await 
me,  but  be  sure  that  I  will  not  meet  them  with  any  weapons 
which  thou  wouldst  scorn.  Only,  as  the  days  and  months  roll 
on,  think  not  that  evil  has  befallen  me,  for  there  is  hope  within 
me  that  I  shall  be  able  to  do  the  bidding  of  Polydektes  and  to 
bear  thee  hence  to  our  Argive  land."  So  Perseus  went  forth 
with  a  good  courage  to  seek  out  the  Gorgon  Medusa. 


568  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


The  east  wind  crested  with  a  silvery  foam  the  waves  of  the 
sea  of  Helle,  when  Perseus  went  into  the  ship  which  was  to  bear 
him  away  from  Seriphos.  The  white  sail  was  spread  to  the 
breeze,  and  the  ship  sped  gaily  over  the  heaving  waters.  Soon 
the  blue  hills  rose  before  them,  and  as  the  sun  sank  down  in  the 
west,  Perseus  trod  once  more  the  Argive  land. 

But  there  was  no  rest  for  him  now  in  his  ancient  home.  On 
and  on,  through  Argos  and  other  lands,  he  must  wander  in  search 
of  the  Gorgon,  with  nothing  but  his  strong  heart  and  his  stout 
arm  to  help  him.  Yet  for  himself  he  feared  not,  and  if  his  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  it  was  only  because  he  thought  of  his  mother, 
Danae;  and  he  said  within  himself,  "  O,  my  mother,  I  would 
that  thou  wert  here.  I  see  the  towers  of  the  fair  city  where 
Akrisios  still  is  King,  I  see  the  home  which  thou  longest  to  be- 
hold, and  which  now  I  may  not  enter,  but  one  day  I  shall  bring 
thee  hither  in  triumph,  when  I  come  to  win  back  my  birthright." 

Brightly  before  his  mind  rose  the  vision  of  the  time  to  come, 
as  he  lay  down  to  rest  beneath  the  blue  sky,  but  when  his  eyes 
were  closed  in  sleep,  there  stood  before  him  a  vision  yet  more 
glorious,  for  the  lady  Athene  was  come  from  the  home  of  Zeus, 
to  aid  the  young  hero  as  he  set  forth  on  his  weary  labor.  Her 
face  gleamed  with  a  beauty  such  as  is  not  given  to  the  daughters 
of  men.  But  Perseus  feared  not  because  of  her  majesty,  for  the 
soft  spell  of  sleep  lay  on  him,  and  he  heard  her  words  as  she 
said,  "  I  am  come  down  from  013'mpos,  where  dwells  my  father, 
Zeus,  to  help  thee  in  thy  mighty  toil.  Thou  art  brave  of  heart 
and  strong  of  hand,  but  thou  knowest  not  the  way  which  thou 
shouldst  go,  and  thou  hast  no  weapons  with  which  to  slay  the 
Gorgon  Medusa.  Many  things  thou  needest,  but  only  against 
the  freezing  stare  of  the  Grogon's  face  can  I  guard  thee   now. 


PERSEUS. 


569 


On  her  countenance  thou  canst  not  look  and  live,  and  even  when 
she  is  dead,  one  glance  of  that  fearful  face  will  still  turn  all  mor- 
tal things  to  stone.  So,  when  thou  drawest  nigh  to  slay  her, 
thine  eye  must  not  rest  upon  her.  Take  good  heed,  then,  to 
thyself,  for  while  they  are  awake  the  Gorgon  sisters  dread  no 
danger,  for  the  snakes  which  curl  around  their  heads  warn  them 
of  every  peril.  Only  while  they  sleep  canst  thou  approach  them, 
and  the  face  of  Medusa,  in  life  or  in  death,  thou  must  never  see. 
Take,  then,  this  mirror,  into  which  thou  canst  look,  and  when 
thou  beholdest  her  image  there,  then  nerve  thy  heart  and  take 
thine  aim,  and  carry  away  with  thee  the  head  of  the  mortal 
maiden.  Linger  not  in  thy  flight,  for  her  sisters  will  pursue  after 
thee,  and  they  can  neither  grow  old  nor  die." 

So  Athene  departed  from  him,  and  early  in  the  morning  he 
saw  by  his  side  the  mirror  which  she  had  given  to  him,  and  he 
said,  "  Now  I  know  that  my  toil  is  not  in  vain,  and  the  help  of 
Athene  is  a  pledge  of  yet  more  aid  in  time  to  come."  So  he 
journeyed  on  with  a  good  heart  over  hill  and  dale,  across  rivers 
and  forests,  towards  the  setting  of  the  sun.  Manfully  he  toiled 
on,  till  sleep  weighed  heavy  on  his  eyes,  and  he  lay  down  to  rest 
on  a  broad  stone  in  the  evening.  Once  more  before  him  stood 
a  glorious  form.  A  burnished  helmet  glistened  on  his  head,  a 
golden  staff  was  in  his  hand,  and  on  his  feet  were  the  golden  san- 
dals, which  bore  him  through  the  air  with  a  flight  more  swift 
than  the  eagle's.  And  Perseus  heard  a  voice  which  said,  "  I  am 
Hermes,  the  messenger  of  Zeus,  and  I  come  to  arm  thee  against 
thine  enemies.  Take  this  sword,  which  slays  all  mortal  things 
on  which  it  may  fall,  and  go  on  thy  way  with  a  cheerful  heart. 
A  weary  road  yet  lies  before  thee,  and  for  many  a  long  day 
must  thou  wander  on  before  thou  canst  have  other  help  in  thy 
mighty  toil.  Far  away,  towards  the  setting  of  the  sun,  lies  the 
Tartessian  land,  whence  thou  shalt  see  the  white-crested  moun- 
tains where  Atlas  holds   up   the  pillars  of  the   heaven.     There 


570 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


must  thou  cross  the  dark  waters,  and  then  thou  wilt  find  thyself 
in  the  land  of  the  Graiai,  who  are  of  kin  to  the  Gorgon  sisters, 
and  thou  wilt  see  no  more  the  glory  of  Helios,  who  gladdens  the 
homes  of  living  men.  Only  a  faint  light  from  the  far-off  sun 
comes  dimly  to  the  desolate  land  where,  hidden  in  the  gloomy 
cave,  lurk  the  hapless  Graiai.  These  thou  must  seek  out,  and 
when  thou  hast  found  them,  fear  them  not.  Over  their  worn 
and  wrinkled  faces  stream  tangled  masses  of  long  gray  hair, 
their  voice  comes  hollow  from  their  toothless  gums,  and  a  single 
eye  is  passed  from  one  to  the  other  when  they  wish  to  look  forth 
from  their  dismal  dwelling.  Seek  them  out,  for  these  alone  can 
tell  thee  what  more  remaineth  yet  for  thee  to  do." 

When  Perseus  woke  in  the  morning,  the  sword  of  Hermes 
lay  beside  him,  and  he  rose  up  with  great  joy,  and  said,  "  The 
help  of  Zeus  fails  me  not;  if  more  is  needed  will  he  not  grant  it 
to  me?  So  onward  he  went  to  the  Tartessian  land,  and  thence 
across  the  dark  sea  towards  the  country  of  the  Graiai,  till  he  saw 
the  pillars  of  Atlas  rise  afar  off  into  the  sky.  Then,  as  he  drew 
nigh  to  the  hills  which  lay  beneath  them,  he  came  to  a  dark 
cave,  and  as  he  stooped  to  look  into  it,  he  fancied  that  he  saw 
the  gray  hair  which  streamed  over  the  shoulders  of  the  Graiai. 
Long  time  he  rested  on  the  rocks  without  the  cave,  till  he  knew 
by  their  heavy  breathing  that  the  sisters  were  asleep.  Then  he 
crept  in  stealthily,  and  took  the  eye  which  lay  beside  them,  and 
waited  till  they  should  wake.  At  last,  as  the  faint  light  from  the 
far-off  sun,  who  shines  on  mortal  men,  reached  the  cave,  he  saw 
them  groping  for  the  eye  which  he  had  taken,  and  presently, 
from  their  toothless  jaws,  came  a  hollow  voice,  which  said, 
"  There  is  some  one  near  us  who  is  sprung  from  the  children  of 
men,  for  of  old  time  we  have  known  that  one  should  come  and 
leave  us  blind  until  we  did  his  bidding."  Then  Perseus  came 
forth  boldly  and  stood  before  them,  and  said,  "  Daughters  of 
Phorkos  and  of  Keto,  I  know  that  ye  are  of  kin  to  the   Gorgon 


PERSEUS. 


571 


sisters,  and  to  these  ye  must  now  guide  me.  Think  not  to 
escape  my  craft  or  guile,  for  in  my  hands  is  the  sword  of 
Hermes,  and  it  slays  all  living  things  on  which  it  may  fall.'"  And 
they  answered,  quickly,  "  Slay  us  not,  child  of  man,  for  we  will 
deal  truly  by  thee,  and  will  tell  thee  of  the  things  which  must  be 
done  before  thou  canst  reach  the  dwelling  of  the  Gorgon  sisters. 
Go  hence  along  the  plain  which  stretches  before  thee,  then  over 
hill  and  vale,  and  forest  and  desert,  till  thou  comest  to  the  slow- 
rolling  Ocean  stream;  there  call  on  the  n3'mphs  who  dwell  be- 
neath the  waters,  and  they  shall  rise  at  thy  bidding  and  tell  thee 
many  things  which  it  is  not  given  to  us  to  know.'" 

Onwards  again  he  went,  across  the  plain,  and  over  hill  and 
vale  till  he  came  to  the  Ocean  which  flows  lazily  round  the 
world  of  living  men.  No  ray  of  the  pure  sunshine  pierced  the 
murky  air,  but  the  pale  yellow  light,  which  broods  on  the  land 
of  the  Gorgons,  showed  to  him  the  dark  stream,  as  he  stood  on 
the  banks  and  summoned  the  nymphs  to  do  his  bidding.  Pres- 
ently they  stood  before  him,  and  greeted  him  by  his  name,  and 
they  said,  "  O  Perseus,  thou  art  the  first  of  living  men  whose 
feet  have  trodden  this  desolate  shore.  Long  time  have  we 
known  that  the  will  of  Zeus  would  bring  thee  hither  to  accom- 
plish the  doom  of  the  mortal  Medusa.  We  know  the  things  of 
which  thou  art  in  need,  and  without  us  thy  toil  would  in  very 
truth  be  vain.  Thou  hast  to  come  near  to  beings  who  can  see 
all  around  them,  for  the  snakes  which  twist  about  their  heads 
are  their  eyes,  and  here  is  the  helmet  of  Hades,  which  will 
enable  thee  to  draw  nig'h  to  them  unseen.  Thou  hast  the  sword 
which  never  falls  in  vain;  but  without  this  bag  which  we  give 
thee,  thou  canst  not  bear  away  the  head,  the  sight  of  which 
changes  all  mortal  things  to  stone.  And  when  thy  work  of 
death  is  done  on  the  mortal  maiden,  thou  must  fly  from  her  sis- 
ters who  can  not  die,  and  who  will  follow  thee  more  swiftly  than 
eagles,  and  here  are  the  sandals  which  shall  waft   thee  through 


572 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


the  air  more  quiekly  than  a  dream.  Hasten,  then,  child  of 
Danae,  tbr  we  are  ready  to  bear  thee  in  our  hands  across  the 
Ocean  stream." 

So  they  bare  Perseus  to  the  Gorgon  land,  and  he  journeyed 
on  in  the  pale  yellow  light  which  rests  upon  it  everlastingly. 

On  that  night,  in  the  darkness  of  their  lonesome  dwelling, 
Medusa  spake  to  her  sisters  of  the  doom  which  should  one  day 
be  accomplished,  and  she  said,  ''  Sisters,  3'e  care  little  for  the 
grief  whose  image  on  my  face  turns  all  mortal  things  to  stone. 
Ye  who  know  not  old  age  or  death,  know  not  the  awful 
weight  of  my  agony,  and  can  not  feel  the  signs  of  the  change 
that  is  coming.  But  I  know  them.  The  snakes  which  twine 
around  my  head  warn  me  not  in  vain;  but  they  warn  me  against 
perils  which  I  care  not  now  to  shun.  The  wrath  of  Athene, 
who  crushed  the  faint  hopes  which  lingered  in  my  heart,  left  me 
mortal  still,  and  I  am  weary  with  the  woe  of  the  ages  that  are 
past.  O  sisters,  ye  know  not  what  it  is  to  pity,  but  something 
more,  ye  know  what  it  is  to  love,  for  even  in  this  living  tomb 
we  have  dwelt  together  in  peace,  and  peace  is  of  kin  to  love. 
But  hearken  to  me  now.  Mine  eyes  are  heavy  with  sleep,  and 
m\'  heart  tells  me  that  the  doom  is  coming,  for  I  am  but  a 
mortal  maiden,  and  I  care  not  if  the  slumber  which  is  stealing 
on  me  be  the  sleep  of  those  whose  life  is  done.  Sisters,  my  lot 
is  happier  at  tlie  least  than  yours,  for  he  who  slays  me  is  my 
friend.  I  am  wearv  of  my  woe,  and  it  may  be  that  better  things 
await  me  when  I  am  dead." 

But  even  as  Medusa  spake,  the  faces  of  Stheino  and  Eury- 
ale  remained  unchanged,  and  it  seemed  as  though  for  them  the 
words  of  Medusa  were  but  an  empty  sound.  Presently  the  Gor- 
gon sisters  were  all  asleep.  The  deadly  snakes  lay  still  and 
quiet,  and  only  tlie  breath  which  hissed  from  their  mouths  was 
heard  throughout  the  cave. 

Then  Perseus  drew  nigh,  with  the  helmet  of  Hades  on  his 


PERSEUS.  573 

head,  and  the  sandals  of  the  nymphs  on  his  feet.  In  his  right 
hand  was  the  sword  of  Hermes,  and  in  his  left  the  mirror  of 
Athene.  Long  time  he  gazed  on  the  image  of  Medusa's  faee. 
which  still  showed  the  wreck  of  her  ancient  beauty,  and  he  said 
within  himself,  "  Mortal  maiden,  well  may  it  be  that  more  than 
mortal  woe  should  give  to  thy  countenance  its  deadly  power. 
The  hour  of  thy  doom  is  come,  but  death  to  thee  must  be  a 
boon."  Then  the  sword  of  Hermes  fell,  and  the  great  agony  of 
Medusa  was  ended.  So  Perseus  cast  a  veil  over  the  dead  face, 
and  bare  it  away  from  the  cave  in  the  bag  which  the  nymphs 
gave  him  on  the  banks  of  the  slow-rolling  Ocean. 


ANDROMEDA. 

Terrible  was  the  rage  of  the  Gorgon  sisters  when  they  woke 
up  from  their  sleep  and  saw  that  the  doom  of  Medusa  had  been 
accomplished.  The  snakes  hissed  as  they  rose  in  knotted  clus- 
ters round  their  heads,  and  the  Gorgons  gnashed  their  teeth  in 
fury,  not  for  any  love  of  the  mortal  maiden  whose  woes  were 
ended,  but  because  a  child  of  weak  and  toiling  men  had  dared 
to  approach  the  daughters  of  Phorkos  and  Keto.  Swifter  than 
the  eagles  they  sped  from  their  gloomy  cave,  but  they  sought  in 
vain  to  find  Perseus,  for  the  helmet  of  Hades  was  on  his  head,  and 
the  sandals  of  the  nymphs  v/ere  bearing  him  through  the  air  like 
a  dream.  Onwards  he  went,  not  knowing  whither  he  was  borne, 
for  he  saw  but  dimly  through  the  pale  yellow  light  which  brooded 
on  the  Gorgon  land  everlastingly;  but  presently  he  heard  a  groan 
as  from  one  in  mortal  pain,  and  before  him  he  beheld  a  giant 
form,  on  whose  head  rested  the  pillars  of  the  heaven,  and  he 
heard  a  voice,  which  said,  "  Hast  thou  slain  the  Gorgon  Medusa, 
child  of  man,  and  art  thou  come   to   rid   me   of  my  long  woe.^* 


574 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


Look  on  mc,  for  I  am  Atlas,  who  rose  up  with  the  Titans 
against  the  power  of  Zeus,  when  Prometheus  fought  on  his  side; 
and  of  old  time  have  I  known  that  for  me  is  no  hope  of  rest  till 
a  mortal  man  should  bring  hither  the  Gorgon  head  which  can 
turn  all  living  things  to  stone.  For  so  was  it  shown  to  me  from 
Zeus,  when  he  made  me  bow  down  beneath  the  weight  of  the 
brazen  heaven.  Yet,  if  thou  hast  slain  Medusa,  Zeus  hath  been 
more  merciful  to  me  than  to  Prometheus  who  was  his  friend,  for 
he  lies  nailed  on  the  rugged  crags  of  Caucasus,  and  only  thy 
child  in  the  third  generation  shall  scare  away  the  vulture  which 
gnaws  his  heart,  and  set  the  Titan  free.  But  hasten  now,  Per- 
seus, and  let  me  look  on  the  Gorgon's  face,  for  the  agony  of  my 
labor  is  well  nigh  greater  than  I  can  bear."  So  Perseus  heark- 
ened to  the  words  of  Atlas,  and  he  unveiled  before  him  the  dead 
face  of  Medusa.  Eagerly  he  gazed  for  a  moment  on  the  change- 
less countenance,  as  though  beneath  the  blackness  of  great  horror 
he  could  yet  see  the  wreck  of  her  ancient  beauty  and  pitied  her 
for  her  hopeless  woe.  But  in  an  instant  the  straining  eyes  were 
closed,  the  heaving  breast  was  still,  the  limbs  which  trembled 
with  the  weight  of  heaven  were  still  and  cold,  and  it  seemed  to 
Perseus,  as  he  rose  again  into  the  pale  yellow  air,  that  the  gray 
hairs  which  streamed  from  the  giant's  head  were  like  the  snow 
which  rests  on  the  peaks  of  the  great  mountain,  and  that  in  place 
of  the  trembling  limbs  he  saw  only  the  rents  and  clefts  on  a 
rough  hill-side. 

Onward  yet  and  higher  he  sped,  he  knew  not  whither,  on 
the  golden  sandals,  till  from  the  murky  glare  of  the  Gorgon  land 
he  passed  into  a  soft  and  tender  light,  in  which  all  things  wore 
the  colors  of  a  dream.  It  was  not  the  light  of  sun  or  moon, 
for  in  that  land  was  neither  day  nor  night.  No  breeze  wafted 
the  light  clouds  of  morning  through  the  sk}^,  or  stirred  the  leaves 
of  the  forest  trees  where  the  golden  fruits  glistened  the  whole 
year  round,  but  from  beneath  rose  the  echoes  of  sweet  music,  as 


ANDROMEDA. 


57S 


he  glided  gently  down  to  the  earth.  Then  he  took  the  helmet 
of  Hades  from  off  his  head,  and  asked  the  people  whom  he  met 
the  name  of  this  happy  land,  and  they  said,  "  We  dwell  where 
the  icy  breath  of  Boreas  can  not  chill  the  air  or  wither  our  fruits, 
therefore  is  our  land  called  the  garden  of  the  Hyperboreans." 
There,  for  a  while,  Perseus  rested  trom  his  toil,  and  all  day 
long  he  saw  the  dances  of  happy  maidens  fair  as  Hebe  and 
Harmonia,  and  he  shared  the  rich  banquets  at  which  the  people 
of  the  land  feasted  with  wreaths  of  laurel  twined  around  their 
head.  There  he  rested  in  a  deep  peace,  for  no  sound  of  strife  or 
war  can  ever  break  it,  and  they  know  nothing  of  malice  and 
hatred,  of  sickness  or  old  age. 

But  presently  Perseus  remembered  his  mother,  Danae,  as 
she  lay  in  her  prison-house,  at  Seriphos,  and  he  left  the  garden  of 
the  Hyperboreans  to  return  to  the  world  of  toiling  men,  but  the 
people  of  the  land  knew  only  that  it  lay  beyond  the  slow-rolling 
Ocean  stream,  and  Perseus  saw  not  whither  he  went  as  he  rose 
on  his  golden  sandals  into  the  soft  and  dreamy  air.  Onwards  he 
flew,  until  far  beneath  he  beheld  the  Ocean  river,  and  once  more 
he  saw  the  light  of  Helios,  as  he  drove  his  fiery  chariot  through 
the  heaven.  Far  away  stretched  the  mighty  Libyan  plain,  and 
further  yet,  beyond  the  hills  which  shut  it  in,  he  saw  the  waters 
of  the  dark  sea,  and  the  white  line  of  foam,  where  the  breakers 
were  dashed  upon  the  shore.  As  he  came  nearer,  he  saw  the' 
huge  rocks  which  rose  out  of  the  heaving  waters,  and  on  one 
of  them  he  beheld  a  maiden,  whose  limbs  were  fastened  with 
chains  to  a  stone.  The  folds  of  her  white  robe  fluttered  in  the 
breeze,  and  her  fair  face  was  worn  and  wasted  with  the  heat  by 
day  and  the  cold  by  night.  Then  Perseus  hastened  to  her,  and 
stood  a  long  time  before  her,  but  she  saw  him  not,  for  the  helmet 
of  Hades  was  on  his  head,  and  he  watched  her  there  till  the 
tears  started  to  his  eyes  for  pity.  Her  hands  were  clasped  upon 
her  breast,  and  only  the  moving  of  her  lips  showed  the  greatness 


576  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

of  her  misery.  Higher  and  higher  rose  the  ibaming  waters,  till 
at  last  the  maiden  said,  "  O  Zeus,  is  there  none  whom  thou 
canst  send  to  help  me?"  Then  Perseus  took  the  helmet  in  his 
hand,  and  stood  before  her  in  all  his  glorious  beauty,  and  the 
maiden  knew  that  she  had  nothing  to  fear  when  he  said,  "  Lady, 
I  see  that  thou  art  in  great  sorrow;  tell  me  who  it  is  that  has 
wronged  thee,  and  I  will  avenge  thee  mightily."  And  she 
answered,  "  Stranger,  whoever  thou  art,  I  will  trust  thee,  for  thy 
face  tells  me  that  thou  art  not  one  of  those  who  deal  falsely. 
My  name  is  Andromeda,  and  my  father,  Kepheus,  is  King  of  the 
rich  Libyan  land,  but  there  is  strife  between  him  and  the  old 
man,  Nereus,  who  dwells  with  his  daughters  in  the  coral  caves, 
beneath  the  sea,  for,  as  I  grew  up  in  my  father's  house,  my 
mother  made  a  vain  boast  of  my  beauty,  and  said  that  among 
all  the  children  of  Nereus  there  was  none  so  fair  as  I.  So 
Nereus  rose  from  his  coral  caves,  and  went  to  the  King  Poseidon, 
and  said,  "  King  of  the  broad  sea,  Kassiopeia,  hath  done  a 
grievous  wrong  to  me  and  to  my  children.  I  pray  thee  let  not 
her  people  escape  for  her  evil  words." 

Then  Poseidon  let  loose  the  waters  of  the  sea,  and  they 
rushed  in  over  the  Libyan  plains  till  only  the  hills  which  shut  it 
in  remained  above  them,  and  a  mighty  monster  came  forth  and 
devoured  all  the  fruits  of  the  land.  In  grief  and  terror  the  peo- 
ple fell  down  before  my  father,  Kepheus,  and  he  sent  to  the  home 
of  Ammon  to  ask  what  he  should  do  for  the  plague  of  waters 
and  for  the  savage  beast  who  vexed  them;  and  soon  the  answer 
came  that  he  must  chain  up  his  daughter  on  a  rock,  till  the  beast 
came  and  took  her  for  his  prey.  So  they  fastened  me  here  to 
this  desolate  crag,  and  each  day  the  monster  comes  nearer  as 
the  waters  rise;  and  soon,  I  think,  they  will  place  me  within  his 
reach."  Then  Perseus  cheered  her  with  kindly  words,  and  said, 
"Maiden,  I  am  Perseus,  to  whom  Zeus  has  given  the  power  to 
do   great  things.      I  hold   in   my   hand  the   sword   of   Hermes, 


ANDROMEDA. 


577 


which  has  slain  the  Gorgon  Medusa,  and  I  am  bearing  to  Poly- 
dektes,  who  rules  in  Seriphos,  the  head  which  turns  all  who  look 
on  it  into  stone.  Fear  not,  then,  Andromeda.  I  will  do  battle 
with  the  monster,  and,  when  thy  toes  are  vanquished,  I  will  sue 
for  the  boon  of  thy  love."  A  soft  blush  as  of  great  gladness 
came  over  the  pale  cheek  of  Andromeda,  as  she  answered,  "  O 
Perseus,  why  should  I  hide  from  thee  my  joy.?  Thou  hast  come 
to  me  like  the  light  of  the  morning  when  it  breaks  on  a  woeful 
night."  But,  even  as  she  spake,  the  rage 
of  the  waves  waxed  greater,  and  the 
waters  rose  hio^her  and  his^lier,  lashing:  the 
rocks  in  their  fury,  and  the  hollow  roar 
of  the  monster  was  heard  as  he  hastened 
to  seize  his  prey.  Presently  by  the  maid- 
en's side  he  saw  a  glorious  form  with  the 
flashing  sword  in  his  hand,  and  he  lashed 
the  waters  in  fiercer  anger.  Then  Per- 
seus went  forth  to  meet  him,  and  he  held 
aloft  the  sword  which  Hermes  gave  to 
him,  and  said,  "  Sword  of  Phcebus,  let 
thy  stroke  be  sure,  for  thou  smitest  the 
enemy  of  the  helpless."     So  the   sword  eutkrpe  (j/u.. r/ PZ.«.r.re). 

fell,  and  the  blood  of  the  mighty  beast   reddened  the  waters  of 
the  green  sea. 

In  gladness  of  heart  Perseus  led  the  maiden  to  the  halls  of 
Kepheus,  and  said,  "  O  King,  I  have  slain  the  monster  to  whom 
thou  didst  give  thy  child  for  a  prey;  let  her  go  with  me  now  to 
other  lands,  if  she  gainsay  me  not."  But  Kepheus  answered, 
"  Tarry  with  us  yet  a  while,  and  the  marriage  feast  shall  be 
made  ready,  if  indeed  thou  must  hasten  away  from  the  Libyan 
land."  So,  at  the  banquet,  by  the  side  of  Perseus  sate  the 
beautiful  Andromeda;  but  there  arose  a  fierce  strife,  for  Phineus 
had  come  to  the  feast,  and  it  angered  him  that   another  should 

37 


578  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

have  for  his  wife  tlie  maiden  whom  he  had  sought  to  make  his 
bride.  Deeper  and  fiercer  grew  his  rage,  as  he  looked  on  the 
face  of  Perseus,  till  at  last  he  spake  evil  words  of  the  stranger 
who  had  taken  away  the  prize  which  should  have  been  his  own. 
But  Perseus  said,  calmly,  "  Why,  then,  didst  thou  not  slay  the 
monster  thyself  and  set  the  maiden  free?"  When  Phineus  heard 
these  words  his  rage  almost  choked  him,  and  he  charged  his 
people  to  draw  their  swords  and  slay  Perseus.  Wildly  rose  the 
din  in  the  banquet  hall,  but  Perseus  unveiled  the  Gorgon's  face, 
and  Phineus  and  all  his  people  were  frozen  into  stone. 

Then,  in  the  still  silence,  Perseus  bare  away  Andromeda 
from  her  father's  home,  and  when  they  had  wandered  through 
many  lands  they  came  at  length  to  Seriphos.  Once  more  Danae 
looked  on  the  face  of  her  son,  and  said,  "  My  child,  the  months 
have  rolled  wearily  since  I  bade  thee  farewell;  but  sure  I  am 
that  my  prayer  has  been  heard,  for  thy  face  is  as  the  face  of  one 
who  comes  back  a  conqueror  from  battle."  Then  Perseus  said, 
"  Yes,  my  mother,  the  help  of  Zeus  has  never  failed  me.  When 
the  eastern  breeze  carried  me  hence  to  the  Argive  land,  my 
heart  was  full  of  sorrow,  because  I  saw  the  city  which  thou 
didst  yearn  to  see,  and  the  home  which  thou  couldst  not  enter, 
and  I  vowed  a  vow  to  bring  thee  back  in  triumph  when  I  came 
to  claim  my  birthright. 

That  evening,  as  I  slept,  the  lady  Athene  came  to  me  from 
the  home  of  Zeus,  and  gave  me  a  mirror  so  that  I  might  take 
the  Gorgon's  head  without  looking  on  the  face  which  turns 
everything  into  stone,  and  yet  another  night,  Hermes  stood  before 
me,  and  gave  me  the  sword  whose  stroke  never  fails,  and  the 
Graiai  told  me  where  I  should  find  the  nymphs  who  gave  me  the 
helmet  of  Hades,  and  the  bag  which  has  borne  hither  the  Gor- 
gon's head,  and  the  golden  sandals  which  have  carried  me  like  a 
dream  over  land  and  sea.  O,  my  mother,  I  hav^e  done  wondrous 
things  by  the  aid  of  Zeus.     By  me  the  doom  of  Medusa  has 


ANDROMEDA. 


579 


been  accomplished,  and  I  tliink  that  the  words  which  thou  didst 
speak  were  true,  for  the  image  of  the  Gorgon's  face,  which  1  saw 
in  Athene's  mirror,  was  as  the  countenance  of  one  whose  beauty 
has  been  marred  by  a  woeful  agony,  and  whenever  I  have  looked 
since  on  that  image,  it  has  seemed  to  me  as  though  it  wore  the 
look  of  one  who  rested  in  death  from  a  mighty  pain.  So,  as  the 
giant  Atlas  looked  on  that  grief-stricken  brow,  he  felt  no  more 
the  weight  of  the  heaven  as  it  rested  on  him,  and  the  gray  hair 
which  streamed  from  his  head  seemed  to  me,  when  I  left  him, 
like  the  snow  which  clothes  the  mountain-tops  in  winter.  So, 
when  from  the  happy  gardens  of  the  Hyperboreans  I  came  to 
the  rich  Libyan  plain,  and  had  killed  the  monster  who  sought  to 
slay  Andromeda,  the  Gorgon's  face  turned  Phineus  and  his  peo- 
ple into  stone,  when  they  sought  to  slay  me  because  I  had  won 
her  love."  Then  Danae  answered  the  questions  of  Perseus,  and 
told  him  how  Polydektes  had  vexed  her  with  his  evil  words,  and 
how  Diktys  alone  had  shielded  her  from  his  brother.  And  Per- 
seus bade  Danae  be  of  good  cheer,  because  the  recompense  of 
Polydektes  was  nigh  at  hand. 

There  was  joy  and  feasting  in  Seriphos  when  the  news  was 
spread  abroad  that  Perseus  had  brought  back  for  the  King  the 
head  of  the  Gorgon  Medusa,  and  Polydektes  made  a  great  feast, 
and  the  wine  sparkled  in  the  goblets  as  the  minstrels  sang  of  the 
great  deeds  of  the  son  of  Danae.  Then  Perseus  told  him  of  all 
that  Hermes  and  Athene  had  done  for  him.  He  showed  them 
the  helmet  of  Hades,  and  the  golden  sandals,  and  the  unerring 
sword,  and  then  he  unveiled  the  face  of  Medusa  before  Poly- 
dektes and  the  men  who  had  aided  him  against  his  mother, 
Danae.  So  Perseus  looked  upon  them,  as  the}'  sat  at  the  rich 
banquet,  stiff  and  cold  as  a  stone,  and  he  felt  that  his  mighty 
work  was  ended.  Then,  at  his  prayer,  came  Hermes,  the  mes- 
senger of  Zeus,  and  Perseus  gave  him  back  the  helmet  of  Flades, 
and  the  sword  which   had   slain   the   Gorgon,  and   the   sandals 


[^8o  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

which  had  borne  him  through  the  air  hke  a  dream.  And 
Hermes  gave  the  hehnet  again  to  Hades,  and  the  sandals  to  the 
Ocean  n\-mphs,  but  Athene  took  the  Gorgon's  head,  and  it  was 
placed  upon  her  shield. 

Then  Perseus  spake  to  Danae,  and  said,  ''My  mother,  it  is 
time  tor  thee  to  go  home.  The  Gorgon's  face  has  turned 
Polydektes  and  his  people  into  stone,  and  Diktys  rules  in  Seri- 
phos."  So  once  more  the  white  sails  were  filled  with  the  eastern 
breeze,  and  Danae  saw  once  more  the  Argive  land.  From  city 
to  city  spread  the  tidings  that  Perseus  was  come,  who  had  slain 
the  Gorgon,  and  the  youths  and  maidens  sang  "  lo  Paian,"  as 
they  led  the  conqueror  to  the  halls  of  Akrisios. 


AKRlpIOp. 

The  shouts  of  "  lo  Paian  "  reached  the  ear  of  Akrisios,  as 
he  ?at  in  his  lonely  hall,  marveling  at  the  strange  things  which 
mu  ;t  have  happened  to  waken  the  sounds  of  joy  and  triumph; 
for,  >ince  the  day  when  Danae  was  cast  forth  with  her  babe  on 
the  raging  waters,  the  glory  of  war  had  departed  from  Argos, 
and  it  seemed  as  though  all  the  chieftains  had  lost  their  ancient 
strength  and  courage.  But  the  wonder  of  Akrisios  was  changed 
to  a  great  fear  when  they  told  him  that  his  child,  Danae,  was 
coming  home,  and  that  the  hero,  Perseus,  had  rescued  her  from 
Polydektes,  the  King  of  Seriphos.  The  memory  of  all  the 
wrong  which  he  had  done  to  his  daughter  tormented  him,  and 
still  in  his  mind  dwelt  the  words  of  warninof  which  came  from 
Phcebus  Apollo  that  he  should  one  da}'  be  slain  by  the  hands  of 
her  son ;  so  that,  as  he  looked  forth  on  the  sky,  it  seemed  to  him 
as  though  he  should  see  the  sun  again  no  more. 

In  haste  and  terror  Akrisios  fled  from  his  home.     He  tarried 


AKRISIOS. 


5«i 


not  to  hear  the  voice  of  Danae,  he  stayed  not  to  look  on  the  lace 
of  Perseus,  nor  to  see  that  the  hero  who  had  slain  the  Gort>-on 
bore  him  no  malice  for  the  wrongs  of  the  former  days.  Quickly 
he  sped  over  hill  and  dale,  across  river  and  forest,  till  he  came 
to  the  house  of  Teutamidas,  the  great  chieftain  who  ruled  in 
Larissa. 

The  feast  was  spread  in  the  banquet-hall,  and  the  Thessalian 
minstrels  sang  of  the  brave  deeds  of  Perseus,  for  even  thither 
had  his  fame  reached  already.  They  told  how  from  the  land  of 
toiling  men  he  had  passed  to  the  country  of  the  Graiai  and  the 
Gorgons,  how  he  had  slain  the  mortal  Medusa  and  stiffened  the 
giant  Atlas  into  stone,  and  then  they  sang  how,  with  the  sword 
of  Hermes,  he  smote  the  mighty  beast  which  ravaged  the  Libyan 
land,  and  won  Andromeda  to  be  his  bride.  Then  Teutamidas 
spake,  and  said,  "  My  friend,  I  envy  thee  for  thy  happy  lot,  for 
not  often  in  the  world  of  men  may  fathers  reap  such  glor}'  from 
their  children  as  thou  hast  won  from  Perseus.  In  the  asfes  to 
come  men  shall  love  to  tell  of  his  great  and  good  deeds,  and 
from  him  shall  spring  mighty  chieftains,  who  shall  be  stirred  up 
to  a  purer  courage  when  they  remember  how  Perseus  toiled  and 
triumphed  before  them.  And  now  tell  me,  friend,  wherefore 
thou  hast  come  hither.  Thy  cheek  is  pale,  and  thy  hand  trem- 
bles, but  I  think  not  that  it  can  be  from  the  weight  of  years,  for 
thy  old  age  is  yet  but  green,  and  thou  mayest  hope  still  to  see 
the  children  of  Perseus  clustering  around  thy  knees." 

But  Akrisios  could  scarcely  answer  for  shame  and  fear;  for 
he  cared  not  to  tell  Teutamidas  of  the  wrongs  which  he  had 
done  to  Danae.  So  he  said,  hastily,  that  he  had  fled  from  a  great 
danger,  for  the  warning  of  Phcebus  was  that  he  should  be  slain 
bv  his  daughter's  son.  And  Teutamidas  said,  "  Has  thv  dauoh- 
ter  yet  another  son?"  And  then  Akrisios  was  forced  to  own 
that  he  had  fled  from  the  hero,  Perseus.  But  the  face  of  Teu- 
tamidas  flushed  with  anger  as   he   said,  "O    shame,  that    thou 


r82  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

shouldst  flee  Ironi  him  who  ought  to  be  thy  glory  and  thy  pride! 
Everywhere  men  speak  of  the  goodness  and  the  truth  of  Perseus, 
and  I  will  not  believe  that  he  bears  thee  a  grudge  for  anything 
that  thou  hast  done  to  him.  Nay,  thou  doest  to  him  a  more 
grievous  wrong  in  shunning  him  now  than  when  thou  didst  cast 
him  forth  in  his  mother's  arms  upon  the  angry  sea.''  So  he 
pleaded  with  Akrisios  for  Perseus,  until  he  spoke  the  word  that 
Danae  and  her  child  might  come  to  the  great  games  which  were 
to  be  held  on  the  plain  before  Larissa. 

With  shouts  of  "  lo  Paian  "  the  3'ouths  and  maidens  went 
out  before  Perseus  as  he  passed  from  the  cit}'  of  Akrisios  to  go 
to  Larissa,  and  everywhere  as  he  journeyed  the  people  came 
forth  from  town  and  village  to  greet  the  bright  hero  and  the 
beautiful  Andromeda,  whom  he  had  saved  from  the  Libyan 
dragon.  Onwards  they  went,  spreading  gladness  everywhere, 
till  the  cold  heart  of  Akrisios  himself  was  touched  with  a  feel- 
ing of  strange  joy,  as  he  saw  the  band  of  youths  and  maidens 
who  came  before  them  to  the  house  of  Teutamidas.  So  once 
more  his  child  Danae  stood  before  him,  beautiful  still,  although 
the  sorrows  of  twenty  years  had  dimmed  the  brightness  of  her 
eye,  and  the  merry  laugh  of  her  3'outh  was  gone.  Once  more 
he  looked  on  the  face  of  Perseus,  and  he  listened  to  the  kindly 
greeting  of  the  hero  whom  he  had  wronged  in  the  days  of  his 
helpless  childhood.  But  he  marveled  yet  more  at  the  beauty  of 
Andromeda,  and  he  thought  within  himself  that  throughout  the 
wide  earth  were  none  so  lair  as  Perseus  and  the  wife  whom  he 
had  won  with  the  sword  of  Hermes. 

Then,  as  they  looked  on  the  chiefs  who  strove  together  in 
the  games,  the  shouting  of  the  crowd  told  at  the  end  of  each 
that  Perseus  was  the  conqueror.  At  last  they  stood  forth  to  see 
which  should  have  most  strength  of  arm  in  hurling  the  quoit; 
and.  when  Perseus  aimed  at  the  mark,  the  quoit  swerved  aside 
and  smote  Akrisios  on  the  head,  and  the  warning  of  Phoebus 
Apollo  was  accomplished. 


AKRISIOS.  583 

Great  was  the  sorrow  of  Teutamidas  and  his  people  as  the 
chieftain  of  Argos  lay  dead  before  them;  but  deeper  still  and 
more  bitter  was  the  grief  of  Perseus  for  the  deed  which  he  had 
unwittingly  done,  and  he  said,  "  O  Zeus,  I  have  striven  to  keep 
my  hands  clean  and  to  deal  truly,  and  a  hard  recompense  hast 
thou  given  me." 

So  the}^  went  back  mourning  to  Argos,  but  although  he 
strove  heartily  to  rule  his  people  well,  the  grief  of  Perseus  could 
not  be  lessened  while  he  remained  in  the  house  of  Akrisios.  So 
he  sent  a  messenger  to  his  kinsman,  Megapenthes,  who  ruled  at 
Tiryns,  and  said,  "  Come  thou  and  rule  in  Argos,  and  I  will  go 
and  dwell  among  thy  people."  So  Perseus  dwelt  at  Tiryns,  and 
the  men  of  the  city  rejoiced  that  he  had  come  to  rule  over  them. 
Thus  the  months  and  years  went  quickly  by,  as  Perseus  strove 
with  all  his  might  to  make  his  people  happy  and  to  guard  them 
against  their  enemies.  At  his  bidding,  the  Cyclopes  came  from 
the  far-off  Lykian  land,  and  built  the  mighty  walls  which  gird 
the  city  round  about;  and  they  helped  him  to  build  yet  another 
city,  which  grew  in  after-times  to  be  even  greater  and  mightier 
than  Tiryns.  So  rose  the  walls  of  Mykenge,  and  there,  too,  the 
people  loved  and  honored  Perseus  for  his  just  dealing  more  than 
for  all  the  deeds  which  he  had  done  with  the  sword  of  Hermes. 
At  last  the  time  came  when  the  hero  must  rest  from  his  long 
toil,  but  as  they  looked  on  his  face,  bright  and  beautiful  even  in 
death,  the  minstrels  said,  "  We  shall  hear  his  voice  no  more,  but 
the  name  of  Perseus  shall  never  die." 


KEPHALO^    AND    PROKRIg. 

Of  all  the  maidens  in  the  land  of  Attica  none  was  so  beau- 
tiful as  Prokris,  the  daughter  of  King  Erechtheus.  She  was  the 
delight  of  her  father's  heart,  not  so  much  for  her  beauty  as  for 


584 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


her  goodness  and  her  gentleness.  The  sight  of  her  fair  face  and 
the  sound  of  her  happy  voice  brought  ghidness  to  all  who  saw 
and  heard  her.  Every  one  stopped  to  listen  to  the  songs  which 
she  sang  as  she  sat  working  busily  at  the  loom,  and  the  maidens 
who  dwelt  with  her  were  glad  when  the  hour  came  to  go  with 
Prokris  and  wash  their  clothes  or  draw  water  from  the  fountain. 
Then,  when  all  her  tasks  were  ended,  she  would  roam  over  hill 
and  valley,  into  every  nook  and  dell.  There  was  no  spot  in  all 
the  land  where  Prokris  had  not  been.  She  la}'  down  to  rest  in 
the  top  of  the  highest  hills,  or  by  the  side  of  the  stream  where 
it  murmured  among  the  rocks  far  down  in 
the  wood}' glen.  So  passed  her  days  away; 
and  while  all  loved  her  and  rejoiced  to  see 
her  face,  only  Prokris  knew  not  of  her  own 
beauty,  and  thought  not  of  her  own  good- 
ness. But  they  amongst  whom  she  lived, 
the  old  and  the  young,  the  sorrowful  and 
happy,  all  said  that  Prokris,  the  child  of 
Herse,  was  always  as  fair  and  bright  as  the 
dew  of  early  morning. 

Once  in  her  many  wanderings  she  had 
climbed   the  heights    of  Mount   Hymettos, 
TUK^AK  {Muse  of  Comedy).    ^\^q^^  ^^gfore  the  first  Streak  of  dawn  was 

seen  in  the  sky.  Far  away,  as  she  looked  over  the  blue  sea,  her 
eyes  rested  on  the  glittering  cliffs  of  Eubcea,  and  she  looked  and 
saw  that  a  ship  was  sailing  towards  the  shore  beneath  the  hill  of 
Hymettos.  Presentl}'  it  reached  the  shore,  and  she  could  see  that  a 
man  stepped  out  of  the  ship,  and  began  to  climb  the  hill,  while  the 
rest  remained  on  the  beach.  As  he  came  nearer  to  her,  Prokris 
knew  that  liis  face  was  very  fair,  and  she  thought  that  she  had 
never  seen  such  beauty  in  mortal  man  before.  She  had  heard 
that  sometimes  the  gods  come  down  from  their  home  on  Olym- 
pos  to  mingle  among  the  children  of  men,  and  that  sometimes 


KEPHALOS    AND    PROKRIS.  585 

the  bright  heroes  were  seen  in  the  places  where  they  had  lived 
on  the  earth  before  they  were  taken  to  dwell  in  the  halls  of  Zeus. 
As  the  stranger  came  near  to  her  the  sun  rose  brightly  and  with- 
out a  cloud  from  the  dark  sea,  and  its  light  fell  on  his  face,  and 
made  it  gleam  with  more  than  mortal  beaut}'.  Gently  he  came 
towards  her,  and  said,  "  Lady,  I  am  come  from  the  far-off  east- 
ern land,  and  as  I  drew  near  to  this  shore  I  saw  that  some  one 
was  resting  here  upon  the  hill.  So  I  hastened  to  leave  the  ship 
that  I  might  learn  the  name  of  the  country  which  I  have  reached. 
My  name  is  Kephalos,  and  my  father,  Helios,  lives  in  a  beautiful 
home  beyond  the  sea,  but  I  am  traveling  over  the  earth,  till  I 
shall  have  gone  over  every  land  and  seen  all  the  cities  which 
men  have  built.  Tell  me  now  thy  name,  and  the  name  of  this 
fair  land,"  Then  she  said,  "  Stranger,  my  name  is  Prokris,  and 
1  am  the  daughter  of  King  Erechtheus,  who  dwells  at  Athens 
yonder,  where  thou  seest  the  bright  line  of  Kephisos  flowing 
gently  into  the  sea."  So  Prokris  guided  the  stranger  to  her 
father's  house,  and  Erechtheus  received  him  kindly,  and  spread  a 
banquet  before  him.  But  as  they  feasted  and  drank  the  dark 
red  wine,  he  thought  almost  that  Kephalos  must  be  one  of  the 
bright  heroes  come  back  to  his  own  land,  so  fair  and  beautiful 
Avas  he  to  look  upon,  and  that  none  save  only  his  own  child,  Pro- 
kris, might  be  compared  to  him  for  beauty. 

Long  time  Kephalos  abode  in  the  house  of  Erechtheus,  and, 
each  day,  he  loved  more  and  more  the  bright  and  happy  Prokris; 
and  Prokris  became  brighter  and  happier,  as  the  eye  of  Kephalos 
rested  gently  and  lovingly  upon  her.  At  last  Kephalos  told  her 
of  his  love,  and  Erechtheus  gave  him  his  child  to  be  his  wife, 
and  there  were  none  in  all  the  land  who  dwelt  together  in  a  love 
so  deep  and  pure  as  that  of  Kephalos  and  Prokris. 

But  among  the  maidens  of  that  land  there  was  one  who 
■was  named  Eos.  She,  too,  was  fair  and  beautiful,  but  she  had 
not  the  gentle  spirit  and  the  guileless  heart  of  Prokris.     When- 


586  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

ever  Kcphalos  wandered  forth  with  his  young  wife,  then  Eos 
would  seek  to  follow  them  stealthily,  or,  if  she  met  them  by 
chance,  she  would  suffer  her  eyes  to  rest  long  on  the  fair  face  of 
Kephalos,  till  she  began  to  envy  the  happiness  of  Prokris.  And 
so  one  day,  when  there  was  a  feast  of  the  people  of  the  land, 
and  the  maidens  danced  on  the  soft  grass  around  the  fountain, 
Kcphalos  and  Eos  talked  together,  and  Eos  suffered  herself  to 
be  carried  away  by  her  evil  love.  From  that  day  she  sought 
more  and  more  to  talk  with  Kcphalos,  till  at  last  she  bowed  her 
head  before  him  and  told  him  softly  of  her  love.  But  Kephalos 
said  to  her,  gently,  "Maiden,  thou  art  fair  to  look  upon,  and  there 
are  others  who  may  love  thee  well,  and  thou  deservest  the  love 
of  any.  But  I  may  not  leave  Prokris,  whom  Erechtheus  has 
given  to  me  to  be  my  wife.  Forgive  me,  maiden,  if  Prokris  ap- 
pear to  me  even  fairer  than  thou  art ;  but  I  prize  her  gentleness 
more  than  her  beauty,  and  Prokris,  with  her  pure  love  and  guile- 
less heart,  shall  be  always  dearer  to  me  than  any  other  in  all  the 
wide  earth."  Then  Eos  answered  him  craftily,  "O  Kcphalos, 
thou  hast  suffered  thyself  to  be  deceived.  Prokris  loves  thee  not 
as  I  do;  prove  her  love  and  thou  shalt  see  that  I  have  spoken 
truly." 

Thus  Eos  spoke  to  him  for  many  days,  and  the  great  happi- 
ness of  his  life  was  marred,  for  the  words  of  Eos  would  come 
back  to  his  mind,  as  he  looked  on  the  happy  and  guileless  Prokris. 
He  had  begun  to  doubt  whether  she  were  in  very  deed  so  pure 
and  good  as  she  seemed  to  be,  and  at  last  he  said  to  Eos  that  he 
would  prove  her  love.  Then  Eos  told  him  how  to  do  so,  and 
said  that  if  he  came  before  his  wife  as  a  stranger  and  brought  to 
her  rich  gifts,  as  from  a  distant  land,  she  would  forget  her  love 
for  Kcphalos. 

With  a  heavy  heart  he  went  away,  for  he  foreboded  evil 
days  from  the  subtle  words  of  Eos,  and  he  departed  and  dwelt 
in  another  land.     So  the  time  passed  on,  until  many  weeks  and 


KEPHAI.OS    AND    PROKKIS.  58) 

months  had  gone  by,  and  Prokris  mourned  and  wept  in  the  house 
of  Erechtheus,  until  the  brightness  of  her  eye  was  dimmed  and 
her  voice  had  lost  its  gladness.  Day  after  day  she  sought 
throughout  all  the  land  for  Kephalos,  day  after  day  she  went  up 
the  hill  of  Hymettos,  and  as  she  looked  towards  the  sea,  she 
said,  "Surely  he  will  come  back  again;  ah,  Kephalos,  thou 
knowest  not  the  love  which  thou  hast  forsaken."  Thus  she 
pined  away  in  her  sorrow,  although  to  all  who  were  around  her 
she  was  as  gentle  and  as  loving  as  ever.  Her  father  was  now 
old  and  weak,  and  he  knew  that  he  must  soon  die,  but  it  grieved 
him  most  of  all  that  he  must  leave  his  child  in  a  grief  more 
bitter  than  if  Kephalos  had  remained  to  comfort  her.  So  Erech- 
theus died,  and  the  people  honored  him  as  one  of  the  heroes  of 
the  land,  but  Prokris  remained  in  his  house  desolate,  and  all  who 
saw  her  pitied  her  for  her  true  love  and  her  deep  sorrow.  At 
last  she  felt  that  Kephalos  would  return  no  more,  and  that  she 
could  no  more  be  happy  until  she  went  to  her  father  in  the  bright 
home  of  the  heroes  and  the  gods. 

Then  a  look  of  peace  and  loving  patience  came  over  her 
fair  face,  and  she  roamed  with  a  strange  gladness  through  every 
place  where  Kephalos  had  wandered  with  her;  and  so  it  came  to 
pass  that  one  day  Prokris  sat  resting  in  the  early  morning  on  the 
eastern  slopes  of  Mount  Hymettos,  when  suddenly  she  beheld  a 
man  coming  near  to  her.  The  dress  was  strange,  but  she  half 
thought  she  knew  his  tall  form  and  the  light  step  as  he  came  up 
the  hill.  Presently  he  came  close  to  her,  and  she  felt  as  if  she 
were  in  a  strange  dream.  The  sight  of  his  face  and  the  glance 
of  his  eye  carried  her  back  to  the  days  that  were  past,  and  she 
started  up  and  ran  towards  him,  saying,  "  O  Kephalos,  thou  art 
come  back  at  last;  how  couldst  thou  forsake  me  so  long.-*"  But 
the  stranger  answered,  in  a  low  and  gentle  voice  (for  he  saw 
that  she  was  in  great  sorrow),  "  Lady,  thou  art  deceived.  I  am 
a  stranger  come  from  a   far   country,  and   I  seek   to   know  the 


588 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


name  of  this  land.''  Then  Prokris  sat  down  again  on  the  grass, 
and  chisped  her  hands,  and  said,  slowly,  "  It  is  changed  and  I 
can  not  tell  how;  yet  surely  it  is  the  voice  of  Kephalos."  Then 
she  turned  to  the  stranger,  and  said,  "  O  stranger,  I  am  mourn- 
ing for  Kephalos,  whom  I  have  loved  and  lost;  he,  too,  came 
from  a  far  land  across  the  sea.  Dost  thou  know  him,  and  canst 
thou  tell  me  where  I  may  find  him?"  And  the  stranger  an- 
swered, "I  know  him,  lady;  he  is  again  in  his  own  home,  far 
away,  whither  thou  canst  not  go;  yet  think  not  of  him,  for  he 
has  forgotten  his  love.'"  Then  the  stranger  spoke  to  her  in  gen- 
tle and  soothing  words,  until  her  grief  became  less  bitter.  Long 
time  he  abode  in  the  land,  and  it  pleased  Prokris  to  hear  his 
voice  while  his  eye  rested  kindly  on  her,  until  she  almost  fancied 
that  she  was  with  Kephalos  once  more.  And  she  thought  to 
herself,  "  What  must  that  land  be,  from  which  there  can  come 
two  who  are  beautiful  as  the  bright  heroes.^" 

So  at  last,  when  with  soft  and  gentle- words  he  had  soothed 
her  sorrow,  the  stranger  spoke  to  her  of  his  love,  and  Prokris 
felt  that  she,  too,  could  love  him,  for  had  not  Kephalos  despised 
her  love  and  forsaken  her  long  ago?  So  he  said,  "  Canst  thou 
love  me,  Prokris,  instead  of  Kephalos?''  and  when  she  gently 
answered  "  Yes,"  then  a  change  came  over  the  face  of  the 
stranger,  and  she  saw  that  it  was  Kephalos  himself  who  clasped 
her  in  his  arms.  With  a  wild  cry  she  broke  from  him,  and  as 
bitter  tears  ran  down  her  cheek,  she  said,  "  O  Kephalos,  Kepha- 
los, why  hast  thou  done  thus?  all  my  love  was  thine,  and  ihou 
hast  drawn  me  into  evil  deeds."  Then,  without  tarrying  for  his 
answer,  with  all  her  strength  she  fled  away,  and  she  hastened  to 
the  sea  shore  and  bade  them  make  ready  a  ship  to  take  her  from 
her  father's  land.  Sorrowfully  they  did  as  she  besought  them, 
and  they  took  her  to  the  Island  of  Crete,  far  away  in  the  eastern 
sea. 

When  Prokris  was   gone,  the  maiden   Eos  came  and   stood 


KEPHALOS    AND    PROKRIS.  589 

before  Kephalos,  and  she  said  to  him,  ''  My  words  are  true,  and 
now  must  thou  keep  the  vow  by  which  thou  didst  swear  to  love 
me,  if  Prokris  should  yield  herself  to  a  stranger."  So  Kephalos 
dwelt  with  Eos,  but  for  all  her  fond  words  he  could  not  love  her 
as  still  he  loved  Prokris. 

Meanwhile  Prokris  wandered,  in  deep  and  bitter  sorrow, 
among  the  hills  and  valleys  of  Crete.  She  cared  not  to  look  on 
the  fair  morning  as  it  broke  on  the  pale  path  of  night;  she  cared 
not  to  watch  the  bright  sun  as  he  rose  from  the  dark  sea,  or 
when  he  sank  to  rest  behind  the  western  waters.  For  the  earth 
had  lost  all  its  gladness,  and  she  felt  that  she  could  die.  But 
one  day  as  she  sat  on  a  hill-side  and  looked  on  the  broad  plains 
which  lay  stretched  beneath,  suddenly  a  woman  stood  before  her, 
brighter  and  more  glorious  than  the  daughters  of  men,  and  Pra 
kris  knew,  from  the  spear  which  she  held  in  her  hand  and  the 
hound  which  crouched  before  her,  that  it  was  Artemis,  the 
mighty  child  of  Zeus  and  Leto.  Then  Prokris  fell  at  her  feet, 
and  said,  '^  O  lady  Artemis,  pity  me  in  my  great  sorrow;"  and 
Artemis  answered,  "  Fear  not,  Prokris,  I  know  thy  grief  Kepha- 
los hath  done  thee  a  great  wrong,  but  he  shall  fall  by  the  same 
device  wherewith  he  requited  thy  pure  and  trusting  love."  Then 
she  gave  to  Prokris  her  hound  and  her  spear,  and  said,  "  Hasten 
now  to  thine  own  land,  and  go  stand  before  Kephalos,  and  I  will 
put  a  spell  upon  him  that  he  may  not  know  thee.  Follow  him 
in  the  chase,  and  at  whatsoever  thou  mayest  cast  this  spear,  it 
shall  fall,  and  from  this  hound  no  prey  which  thou  mayest  seek 
for  shall  ever  escape." 

So  Prokris  sailed  back  to  the  land  of  Erechtheus  with  the 
gifts  of  Artemis.  And  when  Kephalos  went  to  the  chase, 
Prokris  followed  him,  and  all  the  glory  of  the  hunt  fell  to  her 
portion,  for  the  hound  struck  down  whatever  it  seized,  and  her 
spear  never  missed  its  aim.  And  Kephalos  marveled  greatly, 
and  said  to  the  maiden,  "  Give  me  thy  hound  and  thy  spear," 


590 


RKLIGK)X    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


and  he  besoufrlit  the  strnnircr  many  times  for  the  gift,  till  at  last 
Prokris  said,  "  I  will  not  give  them  but  for  thy  love,  thou  must 
ibrsake  Eos  and  eome  to  dwell  with  me.''  Then  Kephalos  said, 
*'  I  eare  not  for  Eos;  so  only  I  have  thy  gifts,  thou  shalt  have  my 
love/'  But  even  as  he  spoke  these  words,  a  change  came  over 
the  lace  of  the  stranger,  and  he  saw  that  it  was  Prokris  herself 
who  stood  before  him.  And  Prokris  said,  "  Ah,  Kephalos,  once 
more  thou  hast  promised  to  love  me,  and  now  may  I  keep  thy 
loNc,  and  remain  with  thee  always.  Almost  I  may  say  that  1 
ne\er  loved  an}'  one  but  thee,  but  thou  art  changed,  Kephalos, 
although  still  the  same,  else  wouldst  thou  not  have  promised  to 
love  me  for  the  gift  of  a  hound  and  a  spear."  Then  Kephalos 
besought  Prokris  to  forgive  him.,  and  he  said,  "  I  am  caught  in 
the  trap  which  I  laid  for  thee,  but  I  have  fallen  deeper.  When 
thou  gavest  thy  love  to  me  as  to  a  stranger,  it  pleased  thee  yet  to 
think  that  I  was  like  Kephalos,  and  my  vow  to  thee  has  been 
given  for  the  mere  gifts  which  I  coveted."  But  Prokris  only 
said,  "  INIy  joy  is  come  back  to  me  again,  and  now  I  will  leave 
thee  no  more." 

So  once  more  in  the  land  of  Erechtheus  Prokris  and 
Kephalos  dwelt  together  in  a  true  and  deep  love.  Once  more 
they  w^andered  over  hill  and  dale  as  in  the  times  that  were  past, 
and  looked  out  from  the  heights  of  Hymcttos  to  the  white  shore 
of  Euboea,  as  it  glistened  in  the  light  of  early  day.  But  when- 
ever he  went  to  the  chase  with  the  hound  and  the  spear  of  Arte- 
mis, Prokris  saw  that  Eos  still  watched  if  haply  she  might  talk 
with  Kephalos  alone,  and  win  him  again  for  herself  Once  more 
she  w\as  happ}',  but  her  happiness  was  not  what  it  had  been  when 
Kephalos  first  gave  her  his  love,  while  her  father,  Erechtheus, 
was  yet  alive.  She  knew  that  Eos  still  envied  her,  and  she 
sought  to  guard  Kephalos  from  the  danger  of  her  treacherous 
look  and  her  enticing  wf/rds.  She  kept  ever  near  him  in  I'.e 
chase,  although  he  saw  her  not,  and  thus  it  came  to  pass  that  one 


KEPHAI.OS    AND      PROKRIS. 


591 


day,  as  Prokris  watched  him  from   a   thicket,   the  folds  of  her 

dress  rustled    a2:<iinst  the  branches,  so  that    Kcphalos  thought  it 


NUMA    POMPILIUo    VI8ITINI.T    THE    NYMFU     EGEKIA. 

was  some  beast  moving  from  his  den,  and  hurled  at  her  the  spear 
of  Artemis  that  never  missed  its  mark.     Then  he  heard  the  cry 


C^gZ  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

as  ol  one  who  has  received  a  deadly  blow,  and  when  he  hastened 
into  the  thicket,  Prokris  la}'  smitten  down  to  the  earth  before 
him.  The  coldness  of  death  was  on  her  face,  and  her  bright  eye 
was  dim,  but  her  voice  was  as  loving  as  ever,  while  she  said, ''  O' 
Kephalos,  it  grieves  me  not  that  thy  arm  hath  struck  me  down. 
I  have  thy  love,  and  having  it,  I  go  to  the  land  of  the  bright 
heroes,  where  my  father,  Erechtheus,  is  waiting  for  his  child,  and 
where  thou,  too,  shalt  one  day  meet  me,  to  dwell  with  me  for- 
ever." One  loving  look  she  gave  to  Kephalos,  and  the  smile  of 
parting  vanished  in  the  stillness  of  death. 

Then  over  the  body  of  Prokris  Kephalos  wept  tears  of 
bitter  sorrow,  and  he  said,  "  Ah,  Eos,  Eos,  well  hast  thou  re- 
warded me  for  doubting  once  a  love  such  as  thou  couldst  never 
feel."  Man}'  days  and  many  weeks  he  mourned  for  his  lost 
love,  and  daily  he  sat  on  the  slopes  of  Hymettos,  and  thought 
with  a  calm  and  almost  happy  grief  how  Prokris  there  had 
rested  by  his  side.  All  this  time  the  spear  of  Artemis  was  idle, 
and  the  hound  went  not  forth  to  the  chase,  until  chieftains  came 
from  other  lands  to  ask  his  aid  against  savage  beasts  or  men. 
Among  them  came  Amphitryon,  the  lord  of  Thebes,  to  ask  for 
help,  and  Kephalos  said,  "  I  will  do  as  thou  wouldst  have  me. 
It  is  time  that  I  should  begin  to  journey  to  the  bright  land  where 
Prokris  dwells,  beyond  the  western  sea." 

So  he  went  with  Amphitryon  into  the  Theban  land,  and 
hunted  out  the  savage  beasts  which  wasted  his  harvests,  and  then 
he  journeyed  on  till  he  came  to  the  home  of  Phoebus  Apollo,  at 
Delphi.  There  the  god  bade  him  hasten  to  the  western  sea, 
where  he  should  once  again  find  Prokris.  Onward  he  went, 
across  the  heights  and  vales  of  ^tolia,  until  he  stood  on  the 
Leukadian  cape  and  looked  out  on  the  blue  water.  The  sun 
was  sinking  low  down  in  the  sky,  and  the  golden  clouds  of  even- 
ing were  gathered  round  him  as  he  hastened  to  his  rest.  And 
Kephalos  said,  "  Here  must  I  rest,  also,  for  my  journey  is  done, 


KEPHALOS    AND    PROKRIS.  593 

and  Prokris  is  waiting  for  me  in  the  brighter  land."  There  on 
the  white  cHff  he  stood,  and  just  as  the  sun  touched  the  waters, 
the  strength  of  Kephalos  failed  him,  and  he  sank  gently  into  the 
sea. 

So  again,  in  the  homes  of  the  bright  heroes,  Kephalos  found 
the  wife  whom  he  had  loved  and  slain. 


^KYLLA. 

From  the  turret  of  her  father's  house,  Skylla,  the  daughter 
of  Nisos,  watched  the  ships  of  King  Minos,  as  they  drew  near 
from  the  Island  of  Crete.  Their  white  sails  and  the  spears  of 
the  Cretan  warriors  sparkled  in  the  sunshine,  as  the  crested 
waves  rose  and  fell,  carrying  the  long  billows  to  the  shore.  As 
she  watched  the  goodly  sight,  Skylla  thought  sadly  of  the  days 
that  were  gone,  when  her  father  had  sojourned  as  a  guest  in  the 
halls  of  King  Minos,  and  she  had  looked  on  his  face  as  on  the 
face  of  a  friend.  But  now  there  was  strife  between  the  chieftains 
of  Crete  and  Megara,  for  Androgeos,  the  son  of  Minos,  had 
been  slain  by  evil  men  as  he  journeyed  from  Megara  to  Athens, 
and  Minos  was  come  hither  with  his  warriors  to  demand  the 
price  of  his  blood.  But  when  the  herald  came  with  the  message 
of  Minos,  the  face  of  Nisos,  the  King,  flushed  with  anger,  as  he 
said,  "  Go  thy  way  to  him  that  sent  thee,  and  tell  him  that  he 
who  is  guarded  by  the  undying  gods  cares  not  for  the  wrath  of 
men  whose  spears  shall  be  snapped  like  bulrushes."  Then  said 
the  herald,  "  I  can  not  read  thy  riddle,  chieftain  of  Megara,  but 
the  blood  of  the  gods  runs  in  the  veins  of  Minos,  and  it  can  not 
be  that  the  son  of  Europa  shall  fall  under  the  hands  of  thee  or 
of  thy  people." 

The  sun  went  down  in  a   flood  of  golden   glory  behind  the 

38 


594 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


purple  heights  of  Geraneia,  and  as  the  mists  of  evening  fell  upon 
the  land,  the  warriors  of  Minos  made  ready  for  the  onset  on  the 
morrow.  But  when  the  light  of  Eos  flushed  the  eastern  sky, 
and  tlic  men  of  Crete  w^ent  forth  to  the  battle,  their  strength 
and  their  brave  deeds  availed  them  nothing,  for  the  arms  of  the 
mi'ditiest  became  weak  as  the  hands  of  a  little  child,  because 
the  secret  spell,  in  which  lay  the  strength  of  the  undying  gods, 
o-uarded  the  city  of  Nisos.  And  so  it  came  to  pass  that,  as  day 
by  day  they  fought  in  vain  against  the  walls  of  Megara,  the 
spirit  of  the  men  of  Crete  waxed  feeble,  and  many  said  that  they 
came  not  thither  to  fight  against  the  deathless  gods. 

But  each  day  as  Minos  led  his  men  against  the  city,  the 
daughter  of  Nisos  had  looked  forth  from  her  turret,  and  she  saw 
his  face,  beautiful  as  in  the  days  when  she  had  sojourned  in  his 
house  at  Gnossos,  and  flushed  with  the  pride  and  eagerness  of  the 
war.  Then  the  heart  of  Skylla  was  filled  with  a  strange  love, 
and  she  spake  musingly  within  herself,  "  To  what  end  is  this 
strife  of  armed  men.''  Love  is  beyond  all  treasures,  and  brighter 
for  me  than  the  love  of  others  would  be  one  kindly  look  from  the 
bright  son  of  Europa.  I  know  the  spell  which  keeps  the  city  of 
the  Megarians,  and  where  is  the  evil  of  the  deed,  if  I  take  the  pur- 
ple lock  of  hair  which  the  gods  have  given  to  my  father  as  a 
pledge  that  so  long  as  it  remains  untouched,  no  harm  shall  befall 
his  people?  If  I  give  it  to  Minos  the  struggle  is  ended,  and  it 
may  be  that  I  shall  w^in  his  love." 

So  when  the  darkness  of  night  fell  again  upon  the  earth, 
and  all  the  sons  of  men  were  buried  in  a  deep  sleep,  Skylla  en- 
tered stealthily  into  her  father's  chamber,  and  shore  off  the  pur- 
ple lock  in  which  lay  his  strength  and  the  strength  of  his  peo- 
ple. Then,  as  the  tints  of  early  morning  stole  across  the  dark 
heavens,  the  watchmen  of  the  Cretans  beheld  the  form  of  a 
woman  as  she  drew  nigh  to  them  and  bade  them  lead  her  to  the 
tent  of  King  Minos.     When  she  was  brought  before  him,  with 


SKYLLA.  595 

downcast  face  she  bowed  herself  to  the  earth,  and  said,  "  I  have 
sojourned  in  thy  halls  in  the  days  that  are  gone,  when  there  was 
peace  between  thee  and  the  house  of  my  father,  Nisos.  O 
Minos,  peace  is  better  than  war,  and  of  all  treasures  the  most 
precious  is  love.  Look  on  me,  then,  gently  as  in  former  days, 
for  at  a  great  price  do  I  seek  thy  kindness.  In  this  purple  lock 
is  the  strength  of  my  father  and  his  people."  Then  a  strange 
smile  passed  over  the  face  of  Minos,  as  he  said,  "  The  gifts  of 
fair  maidens  must  not  be  lightly  cast  aside;  the  requital  shall  be 
made  when  the  turmoil  of  strife  is  ended." 

With  a  mighty  shout  the  Cretan  warriors  went  forth  to  the 
onset  as  the  fiery  horses  of  Helios  rose  up  with  his  chariot  into 
the  kindled  heaven.  Straightway  the  walls  of  Megara  fell,  and 
the  men  of  Crete  burst  into  the  house  of  Nisos.  So  the  city 
was  taken,  and  Minos  made  ready  to  go  against  the  men  of 
Athens,  for  on  them  also  he  sought  to  take  vengeance  for  the 
death  of  his  son,  Androgeos.  But  even  as  he  hastened  to  his 
ship,  Skylla  stood  before  him  on  the  se-a-shore.  "  Thy  victory  is 
from  me,"  she  said,  "  where  is  the  requital  of  my  gift.^"  Then 
Minos  answered,  "  She  who  cares  not  for  the  father  that  has 
cherished  her  has  her  own  reward,  and  the  gift  which  thou  didst 
bring  me  is  beyond  human  recompense."  The  light  southern 
breeze  swelled  the  outspread  sail,  and  the  ship  of  Minos  danced 
gaily  over  the  rippling  waters.  For  a  moment  the  daughter  of 
Nisos  stood  musing  on  the  shore.  Then  she  stretched  forth  her 
arms,  as  with  a  low  cry  of  bitter  anguish  she  said,  "  O  Love, 
thy  sting  is  cruel,  and  my  life  dies  poisoned  by  the  smile  of 
Aphrodite!"  So  the  waters  closed  over  the  daughter  of  Nisos, 
as  she  plunged  in  the  blue  depths;  but  the  strife  which  vexes  the 
sons  of  men  follows  her  still,  when  the  eagle  swoops  down  from 
the  clouds  for  his  prey  in  the  salt  sea. 


cq6  religion  or  mythology. 

PHP^IX03    AND    HELLE. 

Many,  many  years  ago,  there  was  a  man  called  Athamas^ 
and  he  had  a  wife  whose  name  was.  Nephele.  They  had  two 
children — a  boy  and  a  girl.  The  name  of  the  boy  was  Phrixos, 
and  his  sister  was  called  Hellc.  They  were  good  and  happy 
children,  and  played  about  merrily  in  the  tields,  and  their  mother, 
Nephele,  loved  them  dearly.  But  by  and  by  their  mother  was 
taken  away  from  them,  and  their  father,  Athamas,  forgot  all 
about  her,  for  he  had  not  loved  her  as  he  ought  to  do.  And 
very  soon  he  married  another  wife  whose  name  was  Ino,  but  she 
was  harsh  and  unkind  to  Phrixos  and  Ilelle,  and  they  began  to 
be  verv  unhappv.  Their  checks  were  no  more  rosy,  and  their 
faces  no  longer  looked  bright  and  cheerful,  as  they  used  to  do 
when  they  could  go  home  to  their  mother,  Nephele,  and  so  they 
played  less  and  less,  until  none  would  have  thought  that  they 
were  the  same  children  who  were  so  happy  before  Nephele  was 
taken  away.  But  Ino  hated  these  poor  children,  for  she  was  a 
cruel  woman,  and  she  longed  to  get  rid  of  Phrixos  and  Helle, 
and  she  thought  how  she  might  do  so.  So  she  said  that  Phrixos 
spoiled  all  the  corn,  and  prevented  it  from  growing,  and  that  they 
would  not  be  able  to  make  any  bread  till  he  was  killed.  At  last 
she  persuaded  Athamas  that  he  ought  to  kill  Phrixos.  But  al- 
though Athamas  cared  nothing  about  Phrixos  and  Helle,  still 
their  mother,  Nephele,  saw  what  was  going  on,  although  they 
could  not  see  her,  because  there  was  a  cloud  between  them;  and 
Nephele  was  determined  that  Athamas  should  not  hurt  Phrixos. 
So  she  sent  a  ram  which  had  a  golden  fleece  to  carry  her  chil- 
dren away,  and  one  day,  when  they  were  sitting  down  on  the 
grass  (for  they  were  too  sad  and  unhapp\-  to  play),  they  saw  a 
beautiful  ram  come  into  the  field.  And  Phrixos  said  to  Helle, 
"  Sister,  look  at  this  sheep  that  is  coming  to  us;  see,  he  shines  all 


PHRIXOS    AND    HELLE. 


597 


over  like  gold — his  horns  are  made  of  gold,  and  all  the  hair  on 
his  body  is  golden,  too."  So  the  ram  came  nearer  and  nearer, 
and  at  last  he  lay  down  quite  close  to  them,  and  looked  so  quiet 
that  Phrixos  and  Helle  were  not  at  all  afraid  of  him.  Then 
they  played  with  the  sheep,  and  they  took  him  by  the  horns, 
and  stroked  his  golden  fleece,  and  patted  him  on  the  head,  and 
the  ram  looked  so  pleased  that  they  thought  they  would  like  to 
have  a  ride  on  his  back.  So  Phrixos  got  up  first,  and  put  his 
arms  round  the  ram's  neck,  and  little  Helle  got  up  behind  her 
brother  and  put  her  arms  round  his  waist,  and  then  they  called 
to  the  ram  to  stand  up  and  carry  them  about.  And  the  ram 
knew  what  they  wanted,  and  began  to  walk  first,  and  then  to 
run.  By  and  by  it  rose  up  from  the  ground  and  began  to  fly. 
And  when  it  first  left  the  earth,  Phrixos  and  Helle  became 
frightened,  and  they  begged  the  ram  to  go  down  again  and  put 
':hem  upon  the  ground,  but  the  ram  turned  his  head  round,  and 
looked  so  gently  at  them,  that  the}^  were  not  afraid  any  more. 
So  Phrixos  told  Helle  to  hold  on  tight  round  his  waist,  and  he 
said,  "  Dear  Helle,  do  not  be  afraid,  for  I  do  not  think  the  ram 
means  to  do  us  any  harm,  and  I  almost  fancy  that  he  must  have 
been  sent  by  our  dear  mother,  Nephele,  and  that  he  will  carry  us 
to  some  better  country,  where  the  people  will  be  kind  to  us,  as 
our  mother  used  to  be." 

Now  it  so  happened  that,  just  as  the  ram  began  to  fly  away 
with  the  two  children  on  its  back,  Ino  and  Athamas  came  into 
the  field,  thinking  how  they  might  kill  Phrixos,  but  they  could 
not  see  him  anywhere;  and  when  they  looked  up,  then,  high  up 
in  the  air  over  their  heads,  they  saw  the  ram  flying  away  with 
the  children  on  its  back.  So  they  cried  out  and  made  a  great 
noise,  and  threw  stones  up  into  the  air,  thinking  that  the  ram 
would  get  frightened  and  come  down  to  the  earth  again;  but  the 
ram  did  not  care  how  much  noise  they  made  or  how  many 
stones  they  threw  up.     On  and  on  he  flew,  higher  and  higher, 


5^8  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

till  at  last  he  looked  only  like  a  little  yellow  speck  in  the  blue 
sky;  and  then  Ino  and  Athamas  saw  him  no  more. 

So  these  wicked  people  sat  down,  very  angry  and  unhappy. 
They  were  sorry  because  Phrixos  and  Helle  had  got  away  all 
safe,  when  they  wanted  to  kill  them.  But  they  were  much  more 
sorry  because  they  had  gone  away  on  the  back  of  a  ram  whose 
fleece  was  made  of  gold.  So  Ino  said  to  Athamas,  "  What  a 
pity  that  we  did  not  come  into  the  field  a  little  sooner,  for  then 
we  might  have  caught  this  ram  and  killed  him  and  stripped  off 
his  irolden  fleece,  and  we  should  have  been  rich  for  the  rest  of 
our  da3s.'" 

All  this  time  the  ram  was  flying  on  and  on,  higher  and 
higher,  with  Phrixos  and  Helle  on  his  back.  And  Helle  began 
to  be  very  tired,  and  she  said  to  her  brother  that  she  could  not 
hold  on  much  longer,  and  Phrixos  said,  "  Dear  Helle,  try  and 
hold  on  as  long  as  you  possibly  can;  I  dare  sa}'  the  ram  will 
soon  reach  the  place  to  which  he  wants  to  carry  us,  and  then 
you  shall  lie  down  on  the  soft  grass,  and  have  such  pleasant  sleep 
that  you  will  not  feel  tired  any  more."  But  Helle  said,  "  Dear- 
est Phrixos,  I  will  indeed  try  and  hold  fast  as  long  as  I  can,  but 
my  arms  are  becoming  so  weak  that  I  am  afraid  that  I  shall  not 
be  able  to  hold  on  long."  And  by  and  by,  when  she  grew 
weaker,  she  said,  "  Dear  Phrixos,  if  I  fall  off*,  you  will  not  see 
Helle  any  more,  but  you  must  not  forget  her,  you  must  always 
loN'c  her  as  she  loved  you,  and  then  some  day  or  other  we  shall 
see  each  other  again,  and  live  with  our  dear  mother,  Nephele." 
Then  Phrixos  said,  "  Try  and  hold  fast  a  little  longer  still,  Helle. 
I  can  never  love  any  one  so  much  as  I  love  you ;  but  I  want  3'ou 
to  live  with  me  on  earth,  and  I  can  not  bear  to  think  of  living 
without  you." 

But  it  was  of  no  use  that  he  talked  so  kindly  and  tried  to 
encourage  his  sister,  because  he  was  not  able  to  make  her  arms 
and  her  body  stronger;  so  by  and  by  poor  Helle  fell  ofl',  just  as 


PHRIXOS    AND    HELLE. 


599 


they  were  flying  over  a  narrow  part  of  the  sea,  and  she  fell  into 
it  and  was  drowned.  And  the  people  called  the  part  of  the 
sea  where  she  fell  in,  the  Hellespont,  which  means  the  sea  of 
little  Helle. 

So  Phrixos  was  left  alone  on  the  ram's  back;  and  the  ram 

flew  on  and  on  a  long  way,  till  it  came  to  the  palace  of  Aietes, 

the  King  of  Kolchis.     And  King  Aietes  was  walking  about  in 

his  garden,  when  he  looked  up  into  the  sky,  and  saw  something 

which  looked  very  like  a  yellow  sheep  with  a  little  boy  on   its 

back.     And  King  Aietes  was  greatly  amazed,  for  he  had  never 

seen  so  strange  a  thing  before,  and  he  called   his  wife  and   his 

children,  and  everyone  else  that  was  in  his  house,  to  come  and 

see  this   wonderful   sight.     And   they  looked,  and  saw  the   ram 

coming  nearer  and  nearer,  and  then  they  knew  that  it  really  was 

a  boy  on  its  back ;  and  by  and  by  the  ram  came  down  upon  the 

earth  near  their  feet,  and  Phrixos  got  off  its  back.     Then  King 

Aietes  went  up  to  him,  and  took   him  by  the   hand,  and  asked 

him  who  he  was,  and  he   said,   "  Tell  me,   little  boy,  how  it  is 

that  you  come  here,  riding  in  this  strange  way  on  the  back  of  a 

ram."     Then  Phrixos  told  him  the  ram  had  come  into  the  field 

where  he  and  Helle  were  playing,  and   had  carried  them  away 

from  Ino  and  Athamas,  who  were  very  unkind  to  them,  and  how 

little  Helle   had   grown  tired,  and   fallen  off  his   back,  and  had 

been  drowned  in  the  sea.      Then  King  Aietes  took  Phrixos  up  in 

his  arms,  and  said,  "Do  not  be  afraid;   1  will  take  care  of  you 

and  give  you  all  that  you  want,  and  no  one  shall  hurt  you  here; 

and  the  ram  which  has  carried  you  through  the  air  shall  stay  in 

this  beautiful  place,  where  he  will  have  as  much  grass  to  eat  as 

he  can  possibly  want,  and  a  stream  to  drink  out  of  and  to  bathe 

in  whenever  he  likes." 

So  Phrixos  was  taken  into  the  palace  of  King  Aietes,  and 
everybody  loved  him,  because  he  was  good  and  kind,  and  never 
hurt   any  one.      And   he  grew   up   healthy  and  strong,  and   he 


6oO  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

learned  to  ride  about  the  countr}'  and  to  leap  and  run  over  the 
hills  and  valleys,  and  swim  about  in  the  clear  rivers.  He  had 
not  tbrgotten  his  sister  Ilelle,  lor  he  loved  her  still  as  much  as 
ever,  and  \er3'  often  he  wished  that  she  could  come  and  live 
with  him  again,  but  he  knew  that  she  was  with  his  mother, 
Ncphclc,  in  the  happ}'  land  to  which  good  people  go  after  they 
are  dead.  And  therefore  he  was  never  unhappy  when  he 
thought  of  his  sister,  for  he  said,  "  One  day  I,  too,  shall  be 
taken  to  that  bright  land,  and  live  with  my  mother  and  my  sis- 
ter again,  il'  I  try  always  to  do  what  is  right."  And  very  often 
he  used  to  go  and  see  the  beautiful  ram  with  the  golden  fleece 
feeding  in  the  garden,  and  stroke  its  golden  locks. 

But  the  ram  was  not  so  strong  now  as  he  was  when  he  flew 
through  the  air  with  Phrixos  and  Helle  on  his  hack,  for  he  was 
growing  old  and  weak,  and  at  last  the  ram  died,  and  Phrixos 
was  very  sorr}'.  And  King  Aietes  had  the  golden  fleece  taken 
ofl"from  the  body,  and  they  nailed  it  up  upon  the  wall,  and  every 
one  came  to  look  at  the  fleece  which  was  made  of  gold,  and  to 
hear  the  story  of  Phrixos  and  Helle. 

But  all  this  while  Athamas  and  Ino  had  been  hunting  about 
everywhere,  to  see  if  they  could  And  out  where  the  ram  had 
gone  with  the  children  on  his  back;  and  they  asked  every  one 
whom  they  met,  if  they  had  seen  a  sheep  with  a  fleece  of  gold 
carr\-ing  away  two  children.  But  no  one  could  tell  anything 
about  it,  till  at  last  they  came  to  the  house  of  Aietes,  the  King 
of  Kolchis.  And  they  came  to  the  door,  and  asked  Aietes  if  he 
had  seen  Phrixos  and  Helle,  and  the  sheep  with  the  goldei\ 
fleece.  Then  Aietes  said  to  them,  ''  I  have  never  seen  little 
Helle,  for  she  fell  ofl'  Irom  the  ram's  back,  and  was  drowned  in 
the  sea,  but  Phrixos  is  with  me  still,  and  as  for  the  ram,  see  here 
is  his  golden  fleece  nailed  up  upon  the  wall."  And  just  then 
Phrixos  happened  to  come  in,  and  Aietes  asked  them,  "  Look, 
now,  and  tell  me  if  this  is  the  Phrixos  whom  you  are   seeking." 


PHRIXOS    AND    HELLE.  6oi 

And  when  they  saw  him,  they  said,  "It  is  indeed  the  same 
Phrixos  who  went  awa}'  on  the  ram's  back,  but  he  is  grown  into 
a  great  man;"  and  they  began  to  be  afraid,  because  they  thought 
they  could  not  now  ill-treat  Phrixos,  as  they  used  to  do  when  he 
was  a  little  boy.  So  they  tried  to  entice  him  away  by  pretend- 
ing to  be  glad  to  see  him,  and  they  said,  "  Come  away  with  us, 
and  we  shall  live  happily  together."  But  Piirixos  saw  from  the 
look  of  their  faces  that  they  were  not  telling  the  truth,  and  that 
they  hated  him  still,  and  he  said  to  them,  "  I  will  not  go  with 
you;  King  Aietes  has  been  very  good  to  me,  and  30U  were 
always  unkind  to  me  and  to  my  sister,  and  therefore  I  will  never 
leave  King  Aietes  to  go  away  with  you."  Then  they  said  to 
Aietes,  "  Phrixos  may  stay  here,  but  give  us  the  golden  fleece 
which  came  from  the  ram  that  carried  away  the  children."  But 
the  King  said,  "  I  will  not — I  know  that  you  only  ask  for  it  be- 
cause 3'ou  wish  to  sell  it,  and  therefore  you  shall  not  have  it." 

Then  Ino  and  Athamas  turned  away  in  a  rage,  and  went  to 
their  own  country  again,  wretched  and  unhappy  because  they 
could  not  get  the  golden  fleece.  And  they  told  every  one  that 
the  fleece  of  the  ram  was  in  the  palace  of  the  King  of  Kolchis, 
and  they  tried  to  persuade  every  one  to  go  in  a  great  ship  and 
take  away  the  fleece  by  force.  So  a  great  man}^  people  came, 
and  they  all  got  into  a  large  ship  called  the  Argo,  and  they 
sailed  and  sailed,  until  at  last  they  came  to  Kolchis.  Then  they 
sent  some  one  to  ask  Aietes  to  give  them  the  golden  fleece,  but 
he  would  not,  and  they  would  never  have  found  the  fleece  again, 
if  the  wise  maiden,  Medeia,  had  not  shown  lason  how  he  might 
outdo  the  bidding  of  King  Aietes.  But  when  lason  had  won  the 
prize  and  they  had  sailed  back  again  to  their  own  land,  the  fleece 
was  not  given  to  Athamas  and  Ino.  The  other  people  took  it, 
for  the}'  said,  "  It  is  quite  right  that  we  should  have  it,  to  make 
up  for  all  our  trouble  in  helping  to  get  it."  So,  with  all  their 
greediness,  these  wretched  people  remained  as  poor  and  as  miser- 
able as  ever. 


^2  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


MEDEIA. 

Far  away  in  the  Kolchian  land,  where  her  father,  Aietes, 
was  King,  the  wise  maiden,  Medeia,  saw  and  loved  lason,  who 
had  come  in  the  ship,  Argo,  to  search  for  the  golden  fleece.  To 
her  Zeus  had  given  a  wise  and  cunning  heart,  and  she  had  power 
over  the  hidden  things  of  the  earth,  and  nothing  in  the  broad  sea 
could  withstand  her  might.  She  had  spells  to  tame  the  monsters 
which  Ncx  the  children  of  men,  and  to  bring  back  youth  to  the 
wrinkled  face  and  the  tottering  limbs  of  the  old.  But  the  spells 
of  Eros  were  mightier  still,  and  the  wise  maiden  forgot  her 
cunning  as  she  looked  on  the  fair  countenance  of  lason,  and  she 
said  within  herself  that  she  would  make  him  conqueror  in  his 
struggle  for  the  golden  fleece,  and  go  with  him  to  be  his  wife  in 
the  far-ofl'  western  land.  So  King  Aietes  brought  up  in  vain  the 
fire-breathing  bulls  that  they  might  scorch  lason  as  he  plowed 
the  land  with  the  dragon's  teeth,  and  in  vain  from  these  teeth 
sprang  up  the  harvest  of  armed  men  ready  for  strife  and  blood- 
shed. For  Medeia  had  anointed  the  body  of  lason  with  oint- 
ment, so  that  the  fiery  breath  of  the  bulls  hurt  him  not;  and  by 
her  bidding  he  cast  a  stone  among  the  armed  men,  and  they 
fought  with  one  another  for  the  stone  till  all  la}'  dead  upon  the 
ground.  Still  King  Aietes  would  not  give  to  him  the  golden 
fleece,  and  the  heart  of  lason  was  cast  down  till  Medeia  came  to 
him  and  bade  him  follow  her.  Then  she  led  him  to  a  hidden 
dell  where  tlic  dragon  guarded  the  fleece,  and  she  laid  her  spells 
on  the  monster  and  brought  a  heavy  sleep  upon  his  eye,  while 
lason  took  the  fleece  and  hastened  to  carry  it  on  board  the  ship 
Argo. 

So  Medeia  left  her  father's  house,  and  wandered  with  lason 
into   many   lands — to   lolkos,   to   Athens,    and  to  Argos.     And 


MEDEIA. 


603 


wherever  she  went,  men  marveled  at  her  for  her  wisdom  and 
her  beauty,  but  as  they  looked  on  her  fair  face  and  listened  to  her 
gentle  voice,  they  knew  not  the  power  of  the 
maiden's  wrath  if  any  one  should  do  her 
wrong.  So  she  dwelt  at  lolkos,  in  the  house 
of  Pelias,  who  had  sent  forth  lason  to  look  for 
the  golden  fleece,  that  he  might  not  be  King 
in  his  stead,  and  the  daughters  of  Pelias  loved 
the  beautiful  Medeia,  for  they  dreamed  not 
that  she  had  sworn  to  avenge  on  Pelias  the 
wrong  which  he  had  done  to  lason.  Craftily 
she  told  the  daughters  of  Pelias  of  the  power 
of  her  spells,  which  could  tame  the  fire-breath 
ing  bulls,  and  lull  the  dragon  to  sleep,  and 
bring  back  the  brightness  of  youth  to  the 
withered  cheeks  of  the  old.  And  the  daugh- 
ters of  Pelias  said  to  her,  "  Our  father  is  old, 
and  his  limbs  are  weak  and  tottering,  show  us  how  once 
more  he  can  be  made  young."  Then  Medeia  took  a  ram  and 
cut  it  up,  and  put  its  limbs  into  a  caldron,  and  when  she  had 
boiled  them  on  the  hearth  there  came  forth  a  lamb,  and  she  said, 
"  So  shall  your  father  be  brought  back  again  to  youth  and 
strength,  if  ye  will  do  to  him  as  I  have  done  to  the  ram,  and 
when  the  time  is  come,  I  will  speak  the  words  of  my  spell,  and 
the  change  shall  be  accomplished."  So  the  daughters  of  Pelias 
followed  her  counsel,  and  put  the  bod}'  of  their  father  into  the 
caldron,  and,  as  it  boiled  on  the  hearth,  Medeia  said,  "  I  must  go 
up  to  the  house-top  and  look  forth  on  the  broad  heaven,  that  I 
may  know  the  time  to  speak  the  words  of  my  charm,"  And 
the  fire  waxed  fiercer  and  fiercer,  but  Medeia  gazed  on  at  the 
bright  stars,  and  came  not  down  from  the  house-top  till  the  limbs 
of  Pelias  were  consumed  away. 

Then  a  look  of  fierce  hatred  passed  over  her  face,  and  she 


lllin  PAY  MNlA-MYOOrc" 


POLYHYMNIA  {Muse  of 

Rhetoric    and     Elo- 
quence). 


6o4  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

said,  "  Daughters  of  Pelias,  ye  have  slain  your  father,  and  I  go 
with  lason  to  the  land  of  Argos/'  So  thither  she  sped  with 
him  in  her  dragon  chariot,  which  bore  them  to  the  house  of  King 
Kreon. 

Long  time  she  abode  in  Argos,  rejoicing  in  the  love  of 
lason  and  at  the  sight  of  her  children,  who  were  growing  up  in 
strength  and  beauty.  But  lason  cared  less  and  less  for  the  wise 
and  cunning  Medeia,  and  he  loved  more  to  look  on  Glauke,  the 
daughter  of  the  King,  till  at  last  he  longed  to  be  free  from  the 
love  and  the  power  of  Medeia. 

Then  men  talked  in  Argos  of  the  love  of  lason  for  the 
beautiful  Glauke,  and  Medeia  heard  how  he  was  going  to  wed 
another  wife.  Once  more  her  face  grew  dark  with  anger,  as 
when  she  left  the  daughters  of  Pelias  mourning  for  their  father, 
and  she  vowed  a  vow  that  lason  should  repent  of  his  great 
treacherv.  But  she  hid  her  anger  within  her  heart,  and  her  eye 
was  bright  and  her  voice  was  soft  and  gentle  as  she  spake  to 
lason  and  said,  "  They  tell  me  that  thou  art  to  wed  the  daughter 
of  Kreon;  I  had  not  thought  thus  to  lose  the  love  for  which  I 
left  my  father's  house  and  came  with  thee  to  the  land  of  strang- 
ers. Yet  do  I  chide  thee  not,  for  it  may  be  that  thou  canst  not 
love  the  wise  Kolchian  maid  like  the  soft  daughters  of  the 
Argive  land,  and  yet  thou  knowest  not  altogether  how  I  have 
loved  thee.  Go,  then,  and  dwell  with  Glauke,  and  I  will  send  her 
a  bright  gift,  so  that  thou  mayest  not  forget  the  days  that  are 
past." 

So  lason  went  awa}',  well  pleased  that  Medeia  had  spoken 
to  him  gentl}'  and  upbraided  him  not,  and  presently  his  children 
came  after  hini  to  the  house  of  Kreon,  and  said,  "  Father,  we 
have  brought  a  wreath  for  Glauke,  and  a  robe  which  Helios  gave 
to  our  mother,  Medeia,  before  she  came  away  with  thee  from  the 
house  of  her  father."  Then  Glauke  came  forth  eagerly  to  take 
the  gifts,  and  she  placed  the  glittering  wreath  on   her   head,  and 


MEDEIA. 


605 


wrapped  the  robe  round  her  slender  form.  Like  a  happy  child, 
she  looked  into  a  mirror  to  watch  the  sparkling  of  the  jewels  on 
her  fair  forehead,  and  sat  down  on  the  couch  playing  with  the 
folds  of  the  robe  of  Helios.  But  soon  a  look  of  pain  passed 
over  her  face,  and  her  eyes  shone  with  a  tiery  light  as  she  lifted 
her  hand  to  take  the  wreath  away,  but  the  will  of  Medeia  was 
accomplished,  for  the  poison  had  eaten  into  her  veins,  and  the 
robe  clung  with  a  deadly  grasp  to  her  scorched  and  wasted 
limbs.  Through  the  wide  halls  rang  the  screams  of  her  agony, 
as  Kreon  clasped  his  child  in  his  arms.  Then  sped  the  poison 
through  his  veins  also,  and  Kreon  died  with  Glauke. 

Then  Medeia  went  with  her  children  to  the  house-top,  and 
looked  up  to  the  blue  heaven,  and  stretching  forth  her  arms,  she 
said,  "  O  Helios,  who  didst  give  to  me  the  wise  and  cunning 
heart,  I  have  avenged  me  on  lason,  even  as  once  I  avenged  him 
on  Pelias.  Thou  hast  given  me  thy  power;  yet,  it  may  be,  1 
would  rather  have  the  life-long  love  of  the  helpless  daughters  of 
men." 

Presently  her  dragon  chariot  rose  into  the  sky,  and  the  peo- 
ple of  Argos  saw  the  mighty  Medeia  no  more. 


THE^EUg. 

Many  a  long  year  ago  a  little  child  was  playing  on  the  white 
sand  of  the  Bay  of  Troizen.  His  golden  locks  streamed  in  the 
breeze  as  he  ran  amongst  the  rippling  waves  which  flung  them- 
selves lazily  on  the  beach.  Sometimes  he  clapped  his  hands  in 
glee  as  the  water  washed  over  his  feet,  and  he  stopped  again  to 
look  with  wondering  eyes  at  the  strange  things  which  were  bask- 
ing on  the  sunny  shore,  or  gazed  on  the  mighty  waters  which 
stretched  away  bright  as  a  sapphire   stone  into  the  far  distance. 


6o6  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

But  presently  some  sadder  thoughts  troubled  the  child,  for  the 
look  of  gladness  passed  away  from  his  face,  and  he  went  slowly 
to  his  mother,  who  sat  among  the  weed-grown  rocks,  watching 
her  child  play. 

"  Mother,"  said  the  boy,  "  I  am  very  happy  here,  but  may 
I  not  know  to-day  wh}'  I  never  see  my  father  as  other  children 
do?  I  am  not  now  so  very  young,  and  I  think  that  you  feel 
sometimes  lonely,  for  your  face  looks  sad  and  sorrowful,  as  if  you 
were  grieving  for  some  one  who  is  gone  away." 

Fondly  and  proudly  the  mother  looked  on  her  boy,  and 
smoothed  the  golden  locks  on  his  forehead,  as  she  said,  "  My 
child,  there  is  much  to  make  us  happy,  and  it  may  be  that  many 
days  of  gladness  are  in  store  for  us  both.  But  there  is  labor  and 
toil  for  all,  and  many  a  hard  task  awaits  thee,  my  son.  Only 
have  a  brave  heart,  and  turn  away  from  all  things  mean  and 
foul,  and  strength  will  be  given  thee  to  conquer  the  strongest 
enemy.  Sit  down,  then,  here  by  my  side,  and  I  will  tell  thee  a 
tale  which  may  make  thee  sad,  but  which  must  not  make  thee 
unhappy,  for  none  can  do  good  to  others  who  waste  their  lives  in 
weeping.  Many  summers  have  come  and  gone  since  the  day 
when  a  stranger  drew  nigh  to  the  house  of  my  father,  Pittheus. 
The  pale  light  of  evening  was  fading  from  the  sky,  but  we  could 
see,  by  his  countenance  and  the  strength  of  his  stalwart  form, 
that  he  was  come  of  a  noble  race  and  could  do  brave  deeds. 
When  Pittheus  went  forth  from  the  threshold  to  meet  him,  the 
stranger  grasped  his  hand,  and  said,  '  I  come  to  claim  the  rights 
of  our  ancient  friendship,  for  our  enemies  have  grown  too 
mighty  for  us,  and  Pandion,  my  father,  rules  no  more  in  Athens. 
Here,  then,  let  me  tarry  till  I  can  find  a  way  to  punish  the  men 
who  have  driven  away  their  King  and  made  his  children  wan- 
derers on  the  earth.'  So  Aigeus  sojourned  in  my  father's  house, 
and  soon  he  won  my  love,  and  I  became  his  wife.  Swiftly  and 
happily  the  days  went  by,  and  one  thing  only  troubled   me,  and 


THESEUS. 


607 


this  was  the  thought  that  one  day  he  must  leave  me,  to  fight 
with  his  enemies  and  place  his  father  again  upon  his  throne. 
But  even  this  thought  was  forgotten  for  awhile,  when  Aigeus 
looked  on  thee  for  the  first  time,  and,  stretching  forth  his  hands 


SPHINX   OF   EGYPT. 


towards  heaven,  said,  '  O  Zeus,  that  dwellest  in  the  dark  cloud, 
look  down  on  my  child,  and  give  him  strength  that  he  may  be  a 
better  man  than  his  father,  and  if  thou  orderest  that  his  life  shall 
be  one  of  toil,  still  let  him  have  the  joy  which  is  the  lot  of  all 


5o8  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

who  do  their  work  with  a  cheerful  heart  and -keeD  their  hands 
from  all  defiling  things.'  Then  the  days  passed  by  more  quickly 
and  happil}-  than  ever,  but  at  last  there  came  the  messengers 
from  Athens,  to  tell  him  that  the  enemies  of  Pandion  were  at 
strife  among  themselves,  and  that  the  time  was  come  that 
Aigeus  should  fight  for  his  father's  house.  Not  many  days  after 
thi^  we  sat  here,  watching  thee  at  play  among  the  weeds  and 
fl(nvers  that  climb  among  the  rocks,  when  thy  lather  put  his 
arms  gently  round  me,  and  said,  '  Aithra,  best  gift  of  all  that 
the  gods  have  ever  given  to  me,  I  leave  thee  to  go  to  my  own 
land,  and  I  know  not  wliat  things  may  befall  me  there,  nor 
whether  I  mav  return  hither  to  take  thee  to  dwell  with  me  at 
Athens.  But  forget  not  the  da\s  that  are  gone,  and  faint  not  for 
lack  of  hope  that  we  may  meet  again  in  the  days  that  are  com- 
ing. Be  a  brave  mother  to  our  child,  that  so  he,  too,  may  grow 
up  brave  and  pure,  and  when  he  is  old  enough  to  know  what  he 
must  do,  tell  him  that  he  is  born  of  a  noble  race,  and  that  he 
must  one  dav  fight  stoutly  to  win  the  heritage  of  his  fathers.' 
And  now,  my  son,  thou  seest  yonder  rock,  over  which  the  wild 
briars  have  clambered.  No  hands  have  moved  it  since  the  day 
when  thy  father  lifted  it  up  and  placed  beneath  it  his  sword  and 
his  sandals.  Then  he  put  back  the  stone  as  it  was  before,  and 
said  to  me,  '  When  thou  thinkest  fit,  tell  our  child  that  he  must 
wait  until  he  is  able  to  lift  this  stone.  Then  must  he  put  my 
sandals  on  his  feet,  and  gird  my  sword  on  his  side,  and  journey 
to  the  city  of  his  forefathers.'  From  that  day,  my  child,  I  have 
never  seen  thy  father's  face,  and  the  time  is  often  weary,  al- 
though the  memory  of  the  old  days  is  sweet  and  my  child  is  by 
my  side  to  cheer  me  with  his  love.  So  now  thou  knowest  some- 
thing of  the  task  that  lies  betbre  thee.  Think  of  thy  father's 
words,  and  make  thyself  ready  for  the  toil  and  danger  that  may 
tall  to  thv  lot  in  time  to  come." 

The   boy    looked   wistfully   into    his    mother's    face,   and   a 


THESEUS.  609 

strange  feeling  of  love  and  hope  and  strength  filled  his  heart, 
as  he  saw  the  tears  start  to  her  eyes  when  the  tale  was  ended. 
His  arms  were  clasped  around  her  neck,  but  he  said  only, 
"  Mother,  I  will  wait  patiently  till  I  am  strong  enough  to  lift 
the  stone,  but  before  that  time  comes,  perhaps  my  father  may 
come  back  from  Athens." 

So  for  many  a  year  more  the  days  went  by,  and  the  boy, 
Theseus,  grew  up  brave,  truthful,  and  strong.  None  who  looked 
upon  him  grudged  him  his  beauty,  for  his  gentleness  left  no  room 
for  envy,  and  his  mother  listened  with  a  proud  and  glad  heart  to 
the  words  with  which  the  people  of  the  land  told  of  his  kindly 
deeds.  At  length  the  da3^s  of  his  youth  were  ended,  but  Aigeus 
came  not  back,  and  Theseus  went  to  Aithra,  and  said,  "  The 
time  is  come,  my  mother;  I  must  sec  this  day  whether  I  am 
strong  enough  to  lift  the  stone."  And  Aithra  answered,  gently, 
"Be  it  as  thou  wilt,  and  as  the  undying  gods  will  it,  my  son." 
Then  he  went  up  to  the  rock,  and  nerved  himself  for  a  mighty 
effort,  and  the  stone  yielded  slowly  to  his  strength,  and  the  sword 
and  sandals  lay  before  him.  Prpsentl}'  he  stood  before  Aithra, 
and  to  her  it  seemed  that  the  face  of  Theseus  was  as  the  face  of 
one  of  the  bright  heroes  who  dwell  in  the  halls  of  Zeus.  A 
flush  of  glorious  beauty  lit  up  his  countenance,  as  she  girt  the 
sword  to  his  side  and  said,  "  The  gods  prosper  thee,  my  son, 
and  they  will  prosper  thee,  if  thou  livest  in  time  to  come  as  thou 
hast  lived  in  the  days  that  are  gone." 

So  Theseus  bade  his  mother  farewell,  there  on  the  white 
sea-shore,  where  long  ago  he  had  asked  her  first  to  tell  him  of 
his  name  and  kindred.  Sadly,  yet  with  a  good  hope,  he  set  out 
on  his  journey.  The  blue  sea  lay  before  him,  and  the  white  sails 
of  ships  glistened  as  they  danced  on  the  heaving  waters.  But 
Theseus  had  vowed  a  vow  that  he  would  do  battle  with  the  evil- 
doers who  filled  the  land  with  blood,  and  for  terror  of  whom  the 
travelers  walked  in  by-ways.      So  at  Epidauros   he   fought  with 

39 


5io  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

tlic  cruel  Periphetes,  and  smote  him  witli  his  own  club,  and  a^ 
the  Megarian  istlinuis  lie  seized  the  robber,  Sinis,  and  tore  him 
to  pieces  between  the  trunks  of  pines,  even  as  he  had  been  wont 
to  do  with  the  waytarers  who  fell  into  his  hands.  Then,  in  the 
thickets  of  Krommyon,  he  slew  the  huge  sow  that  ravaged  the 
fair  corn-helds,  and  on  tlie  borderland  he  fought  a  sore  fight  with 
Skiron,  who  plundered  all  who  came  in  his  path,  and,  making 
them  wash  liis  feet,  hurled  them,  as  they  stooped,  down  the  cliffs 
which  hung  over  the  surging  sea.  Even  so  did  Theseus  to  him, 
and  journjying  on  to  the  banks  of  Kephisos,  stretched  the  robber, 
Prokroustes,  on  the  bed  on  which  he  had  twisted  and  tortured 
the  limbs  of  his  victims  till  they  died. 

Tiius,  amid  the  joyous  shoutings  of  the  people  whom  he  had 
set  free,  Theseus  entered  into  the  city  of  his  fathers,  and  the 
rumor  of  him  was  brought  to  Aigeus,  the  King.  Then  the 
memory  of  the  days  that  were  gone  came  back  to  Aigeus,  and 
his  heart  smote  him  as  he  thought  within  himself  that  this  must 
be  the  child  of  Aithra,  whom  he  had  left  mourning  on  the  shore 
of  Troizen.  But  soon  there  was  a  strife  in  the  city,  for  among 
the  mightiest  of  the  people  were  many  who  mocked  at  Theseus, 
and  said,  "  Who  is  this  stranger  that  men  should  exalt  him  thus, 
as  though  he  came  of  the  race  of  heroes?  Let  him  show  that 
he  is  the  child  of  Aigeus,  if  he  would  win  the  heritage  which  he 
claims."  So  was  Theseus  brought  before  the  King,  and  a  blush 
of  shame  passed  over  the  old  man's  face  when  he  saw  the  sword 
and  sandals  which  he  had  left  beneath  the  great  stone,  near  the 
Troizenian  shore.  Few  words  only  he  spake  of  welcome,  and 
none  of  love  or  kindness  for  his  child  or  for  the  wife  who  still 
}earned  for  the  love  of  the  former  days.  Then,  at  his  father's 
bidding,  Theseus  made  ready  to  go  forth  once  again  on  his  path 
of  toil,  and  he  chaibd  not  against  the  hard  lot  which  had  fallen 
to  his  portion.  Only  he  said,  "  The  love  of  a  father  would 
sweeten  m}-  labor,  but  my  mother's  love  is  with  me  stili,  and  the 
battle  is  for  ri<rht  and  lor  law.*' 


THIiSEUS.  6ll 

So  in  after-times  the  minstrels  sang  ol  the  glorious  deeds  of 
Theseus  the  brave  and  fair.  They  told  how  at  last  at  the  bid- 
ding- of  his  father  he  went  forth  from  the  elates  of  Athens  and 
smote  the  bull  which  ravaged  the  broad  plains  of  Marathon,  and 
how  in  the  secret  maze  of  the  labyrinth  he  smote  the  Minotauros. 
They  sang  of  his  exploits  in  the  day  when  the  Amazons  did  bat- 
tle with  the  men  of  Athens — how  he  went  with  Meleagros  and 
bis  chieftains  to  the  chase  of  the  boar  in  Kalydon — how  with  the 
heroes  in  the  ship  Argo  he  brought  back  the  golden  fleece  from 
Kolchis.  They  told  how  at  last  he  went  down  with  Peirithoos, 
his  comrade,  into  the  gloomy  kingdom  of  Hades  and  seized  on 
the  daughter  of  Demeter,  to  bring  her  to  the  land  of  living  men. 
They  sang  of  the  fierce  wrath  of  Hades  when  his  lightnings 
burst  forth  and  smote  Peirithoos — of  the  dark  prison-house 
where  Theseus  lay  while  many  a  rolling  year  went  round,  until 
at  last  the  mighty  Herakles  passed  the  borders  of  the  shadowy 
land  and  set  the  captive  free. 

And  so  it  was  that,  when  the  heroes  had  passed  to  the  home 
of  Zeus  and  the  banquet  of  the  gods,  the  glory  of  Theseus  was 
as  the  glory  of  the  brave  son  of  Alkmene  who  toiled  for  the 
false  Eur3''stheus;  and  ever  in  the  days  of  feasting,  the  minstrels 
linked  together  the  names  of  Herakles  and  Theseus. 


ARIADNE. 


The  soft  western  breeze  was  bearing  a  ship  from  the  Athe- 
nian land  to  the  fair  haven  of  Gnossos,  and  the  waters  played 
merrily  round  the  ship  as  it  sped  along  the  paths  of  the  sea.  But 
on  board  there  were  mournful  hearts  and  weeping  eyes,  for  the 
youths  and  maidens  which  that  ship  was  bearing  to  Crete  were 
to  be  the  prey  of  the   savage  Minotauros.     As  they  came   near 


6x2  RELIGION    OR    MY'J  HOI.OGY. 

the  harbor  gates,  they  saw  the  people  of  King  Minos  erowded 
on  the  shore,  and  they  wept  aloud  because  they  should  no  more 
look  on  the  earth  and  on  tV/-  sun  as  he  journeyed  through  the 
heaven. 

In  that  throng  stood  Ariadne,  the  daughter  of  the  King,  a!:d 
as  she  gazed  on  the  youths  and  maidens  who  came  out  of  the 
tribute  ship,  tb.ere  passed  before  her  one  taller  and  fairer  than  all, 
and  she  saw  tliat  his  eye  alone  was  bright  and  his  step  firm,  as 
he  moxed  troni  the  shore  to  go  to  the  house  of  Minos.  Presently 
thev  all  stood  before  the  King,  and  he  saw  that  one  alone  gazed 
steadfastly  upon  him,  while  the  eyes  of  the  rest  were  dim  with 
many  tears.  Then  he  said,  "What  is  thy  name.^"  The  young 
man  answered,  "  I  am  Theseus,  the  son  of  King  Aigeus,  and  I 
have  come  as  one  of  the  tribute  children,  but  I  part  not  with  my 
life  till  I  haye  battled  for  it  with  all  my  strength.  Wherefore 
send  me  first,  I  pray  thee,  that  I  may  fight  with  Minotauros;  for 
f  I  be  the  conqueror,  then  shall  all  these  go  back  with  me  in 
peace  to  our  own  land."  Then  Minos  said,  "  Thou  shalt  indeed 
go  first  to  meet  Minotauros;  but  think  not  to  conquer  him  in  the 
fight,  for  the  fianie  from  his  mouth  will  scorch  thee,  and  no 
mortal  man  may  withstand  his  strength."  And  Theseus  an- 
swered, "It  is  for  man  to  do  what  best  he  may;  the  gods  know 
for  whom  remains  the  victory." 

But  the  gentle  heart  of  Ariadne  was  moved  with  love  and 
pity  as  she  looked  on  his  fair  face  and  his  bright  and  fearless 
eye,  and  she  said  within  herself,  "  I  can  not  kill  the  Minotauros 
or  rob  him  of  his  strength,  but  I  will  guide  Theseus  so  that 
he  may  reach  the  monster  while  sleep  lies  heavy  upon  him." 

On  the  next  day  Theseus,  the  Athenian,  was  to  meet  the 
dreadful  Minotauros,  who  dwelt  in  the  labyrinth  ot"  Gnossos. 
h\'ir  within  its  thousand  twisted  alleys  was  his  den,  where  he 
waited  for  his  prey,  as  they  were  brought  each  along  the  wind- 
ing paths.     "Rut    Ariadne  talked  in  secret  with    Theseus  in  the 


ARIADNE.  613 

still  evening  time,  and  she  gave  him  a  clue  of  thread,  so  that 
he  might  know  how^  to  come  back  out  of  the  mazes  of  the 
labyrinth  after  he  had  slain  the  Minotauros;  and  when  the 
moon  looked  down  from  heaven,  she  led  him  to  a  hidden  gate, 
and  bade  him  go  forth  boldly,  for  he  should  come  to  the  mon- 
ster's den  while  sleep  lay  heavy  on  his  eyes.  So  when  the 
morning  came,  the  Minotauros  lay  lifeless  on  the  ground,  and 
there  was  joy  and  gladness  in  the  great  city  of  Gnossos,  and 
Minos  himself  rejoiced  that  the  youths  and  maidens  might  go 
back  with  Theseus  in  peace  to  Athens. 

So  once  again  they  went  into  the  ship,  and  the  breeze  blew 
softly  to  carry  them  to  the  homes  which  they  had  not  thought  to 
see  again.  But  Theseus  talked  with  Ariadne,  in  the  house  of 
Minos,  and  the  maiden  wept  as  though  some  great  grief  lay 
heavy  upon  her,  and  Theseus  twined  his  arm  gently  round  her, 
and  said,  "  Fairest  of  maidens,  thy  aid  hath  saved  me  from 
death,  but  I  care  not  now  to  live  if  I  may  not  be  with  thee. 
Come  with  me,  and  I  will  lead  thee  to  the  happier  land,  where 
my  father,  Aigeus,  is  King.  Come  with  me,  that  my  people 
may  see  and  love  the  maiden  who  rescued  the  tribute  children 
from  the  savage  Minotauros." 

Then  Ariadne  went  with  him  joyfully,  for  her  own  love 
made  her  think  that  Theseus  loved  her  not  less  dearly.  So  she 
wept  not  as  she  saw  the  towers  of  Gnossos  growing  fainter  and 
fainter  while  the  ship  sped  over  the  dancing  waters,  and  she 
thought  only  of  the  happy  days  which  she  should  spend  in  the 
bright  Athens  v/hcie  Theseus  sho'id  one  day  be  King.  Gaily 
the  ship  sped  upon  her  way,  and  there  was  laughter  and  mirth 
among  the  youths  and  maidens  who  were  going  back  to  their 
home.  And  Theseus  sat  by  the  side  of  Ariadne,  speaking  the 
words  of  a  deeper  love  than  in  truth  he  felt,  and  fancymg  that 
he  loved  the  maiden  even  as  the  maiden  loved  him.  But  while 
yet  he  gazed  on  the  beautiful  Ariadne,  the  image  of  Aigle  came 


6i4 


RELIGION     OK     MVI"110L0(iY 


back  to  liis  mind  and  the  old  love  was  wakened  again  in  his 
heart.  Onward  sailed  the  sliip,  eleaving  its  way  through  the 
IbaminL^  waters,  by  the  Islands  ot"  Thera  and  Amorgos,  till  the 
hii^h  elirts  of  Naxos  broke  upon  their  sight. 

The  sun  was  sinking  down  into  the  sea  when  they  came  to 
its  winding  sliores,  and  the  seamen  moored  the  ship  to  the  land, 
and  came  ibrth  to  rest  until  the  morning.  There  the}'  feasted 
<Mily  on  the  beach,  and  Theseus  talked  with  Ariadne  until  the 
moon  was  high  up  in  the  sky.  So  they  slept  through  the  still 
hours  of  night,  but  when  the  sun  was  risen,  Ariadne  was  alone 

upon  the  sea-shore.     In  doubt  and  fear,  she 
roamed  along  the  beach,  but  she  saw  no 
one,  and  there  was  no  ship  sailing  on  the 
blue  sea.     In    many  a  bay  and   nook   she 
sought  him,  and   she  cried    in   bitter  sor- 
row,   "  Ah,  Theseus,    Theseus,    hast  thou 
forsaken  me.-'"     Her  feet  were  wounded  by 
i  '     [Wl    lAW p  \      the   sharp  flints,   her  limbs  w^ere  faint  from 
T        G^T/twc^^T      very    weariness,   and    her    eyes   were    dim 
with  tears.      x\bove  her  rose  the  high  clifls 
like  a    w^all,    before    her    was    spread    the 
cAi.i.iopK  bright  and  laughing  sea,  and  her  heart  sank 

{Muse  of  iin-oir  VevHe.)  within  her,  for  she  felt  that  she  must  die. 
'Ah.  Theseus,''  she  cried,  ''  have  T  done  thee  wrong?  I  pitied 
thee  in  the  time  of  t\\\  sorrow  and  saved  thee  from  thy  doom, 
and  then  I  listened  to  thy  fair  words,  and  trusted  them  as  a  maid- 
en trusts  when  love  is  first  awakened  wMthin  her.  Yet  hast  thou 
dealt  me  a  hard  requital.  Thou  art  gone  to  happy  Athens,  and 
it  may  be  thou  thinkest  already  ol  some  bright  maiden  who  there 
has  crossed  th)-  path,  and  thou  hast  left  me  here  to  die  for 
weariness  and  hunger.  So  would  I  not  requite  thee  for  a  deed 
of  love    and  pit\'.'' 

Wearied  and  sad  of  heart,  she  sank  down  on  the  rock,  and 


ARIADNE. 


6:5 


her  long  hair  streamed  over  her  fair  shoulders.      Her  hands  were 
clasped  around  her  knees,  and  the  hot  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks, 
and  she  knew  not   that  there  stood   before  her   one  fairer   and 
brighter  than  the  sons  of  men,  until   she  heard   a   voice   which 
said,   "  Listen  to   me,  daughter   of  Minos.     I  am   Dion3'sos,  the 
lord  of  the  feast  and  revel.      I  wander  with  light   heart   and   the 
sweet  sounds  of  laughter  and  song  over  land  and  sea;  I  saw  thee 
aid  Theseus  when  he  went  into  the   labyrinth  to  slay  the  Mino- 
tauros.     I  heard  his   fair  words  when   he   prayed  thee  to   leave 
thy  home  and  go  with  him  to  Athens.     I  saw  him  this  morning, 
while  yet  the  stars  twinkled  in  the  sky,  arouse  his  men  and  sail 
away  in  his  ship  to  the  land  of  Aigeus;  but  I  sought  not  to  stay 
him,   for,  Ariadne,  thou  must   dwell   with  me.       Thy   love  and 
beauty  are  a  gift  too  great  for  Theseus;  but   thou  shalt  be  the 
bride  of  Dionysos.     Thy  days  shall  be  passed  amid  feasts  and 
banquets,  and  when  thy  life  is  ended  here,  thou  shalt  go  with  me 
to  the  homes  of  the  undying  gods,  and  men  shall  see  the   crown 
of  Ariadne   in  the  heavens  when   the   stars   look   forth   at   nio-ht 
from  the  dark  sky.     Nay,  weep  not,  Ariadne,  thy  love  for  The- 
seus hath  been  but  the  love  of  a  day,  and  I  have  loved  thee  long 
before  the  black-sailed  ship  brought  him  from  poor  and  rugged 
Athens. '''      Then  Ariadne  wept  no  more,  and   in   the   arms  of 
Dionysos  she.  forgot  the  false  and  cruel  Theseus;  so  that  among 
the  matrons  who  thronged  round  the  joyous  wine-god  the  fairest 
and  the  most  joyous  was  Ariadne,  the  daughter  of  Minos. 


ARETHUgA. 

On  the  heights  of  Ma^nalos  the  hunter  Alpheios  saw  the 
maiden  Arethusa  as  she  wandered  joyously  with  her  companions 
over  the  green  swelling  downs  where  the  heather  spread   out   its 


6i6  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

pink  blossoms  to  the  sky.  Onward  she  came,  the  fairest  of  all 
the  band,  until  slie  drew  ni_ij;h  to  the  spot  where  Alpheios  stood 
marveling  at  the  brightness  of  her  beauty.  Then,  as  she  fol- 
lowed the  winding  path  on  the  hill-side,  she  saw  his  eye  resting 
upon  her,  and  her  heart  was  filled  with  fear,  for  his  dark  face 
was  flushed  b}'  the  toil  of  the  long  chase  and  his  torn  raiment 
waved  wildl\-  in  the  breeze.  And  yet  more  was  she  afraid  when 
she  heard  the  sound  of  his  rough  voice,  as  he  prayed  her  to  tarry 
bv  his  side.  She  lingered  not  to  listen  to  his  words,  but  with 
light  foot  she  sped  over  hill  and  dale  and  along  the  bank  of  the 
river  where  it  leaps  down  the  mountain  cliffs  and  winds  along 
the  narrow  valleys. 

Then  Alpheios  vowed  a  vow  that  the  maiden  should  not 
escape  him.  ''  I  will  follow  thee,"  he  said,  "  over  hill  and  dale; 
I  will  seek  thee  through  rivers  and  seas,  and  where  thou  shalt 
rest,  there  will  I  rest,  also."  Onward  they  sped,  across  the  dark 
heights  of  ErN'manthos  and  over  the  broad  plains  of  Pisa,  till  the 
waters  of  the  western  sea  lay  spread  out  before  them,  dancing  in 
the  light  of  the  midday  sun. 

Then  with  arms  outstretched,  and  with  wearied  limbs,  Are- 
thusa  cried  aloud,  and  said,  ''O  dausrhters  of  the  Sfentle  Okea- 
nos,  I  have  played  with  you  on  the  white  shore  in  the  days  of 
mirth  and  gladness,  and  now  I  come  to  your  green  depths.  Save 
me  from  the  hand  of  the  wild  huntsman."  So  she  plunged  be- 
neath the  waves  of  the  laughing  sea,  and  the  daus^hters  of  Okea- 
nos  bore  her  gently  downwards  till  she  came  to  the  coral  caves, 
where  they  sat  listening  to  the  sweet  song  of  the  waters.  But 
there  they  suffered  her  not  to  rest,  for  they  said,  "  Yet  further 
must  thou  flee,  Arethusa,  for  Alpheios  comes  behind  thee."  Then 
in  their  arms  they  bore  her  gently  beneath  the  depths  of  the  sea, 
till  they  laid  her  down  at  last  on  the  Ort3'gian  shore  of  the 
Thrinakian  land,  as  the  sun  was  sinking  down  in  the  sky. 
Dimly  she  saw  spread  before  her  the  blue  hills,  and  she  felt    the 


ARETHUSA. 


617 


soft  breath  of  the  summer  breeze,  as  her  eyes  closed  for  weari- 
ness. Then  suddenly  she  heard  the  harsh  voice  which  scared 
her  on  the  heights  of  Msenalos,  and  she  tarried  not  to  listen  to 
his  prayer.  "  Flee  not  away,  Arethusa,"  said  the  huntsman, 
Alpheios,  "  I  mean,  not  to  harm  thee;  let  me  rest  in  thy  love,  and 
let  me  die  for  the  beauty  of  thy  fair  face.''     But  the  maiden  fled 


IHillll 


'mmm 


II liSSlilBIIIIII ■ 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  MAN.     (From  /m  antique  Sculpture.) 

with  a  wild  cry  along  the  winding  shore,  and  the  light  step  ol 
her  foot  left  no  print  on  the  glistening  sand.  "  Not  thus  shalt 
thou  escape  from  my  arms,"  said  the  huntsman,  and  he  stretched 
forth  his  hand  to  seize  the  maiden,  as  she  drew  nigh  to  a  fountain 
whose  waters  flashed  clear  and  bright  in  the  light  of  the  sinking 
sun.     Then  once  again  Arethusa  called  aloud  on  the  daughters 


5i8  RELIGION    OK    MYTHOLOGY. 

of  Okeanos,  and  she  said,  "'  O  friends,  once  more  I  come  to  your 
coral  caves,  for  on  earth  there  is  for  me  no  resting-place.'"  So 
the  waters  closed  over  the  maiden,  and  the  image  of  heaven 
came  down  again  on  the  bright  fountain.  Then  a  flush  of  anger 
passed  over  tlie  face  of  Alpheios,  as  he  said,  "  On  earth  thou 
hast  scorned  my  love,  O  maiden,  but  my  form  shall  be  fairer  in 
thv  sight  when  I  rest  beside  thee  beneath  the  laughing  waters." 
So  o\er  the  huntsman,  Alpheios,  flowed  the  Ortygian  stream,  and 
the  lo\'e  of  Arethusa  was  given  to  him  in  the  coral  caves,  where 
they  dwell  with  the  daughters  of  Okeanos. 


TYRO, 


On  the  banks  of  the  fairest  stream  in  all  the  land  of  Thes- 
saly,  the  golden-haired  Enipeus  wooed  the  maiden  Tyro;  with 
her  he  wandered  in  gladness  of  heart,  following  the  path  of  the 
winding  river,  and  talking  with  her  of  his  love.  And  Tyro 
listened  to  his  tender  words,  as  day  by  day  she  stole  away  from 
the  house  of  her  father,  Salmoneus,  to  spend  the  livelong  day  on 
the  banks  of  his  beautiful  stream. 

But  Salmoneus  v/as  full  of  rage  when  he  knew  that  Tyro 
loved  Enipeus,  and  how  she  had  become  the  mother  of  two  fair 
babes.  There  was  none  to  plead  for  T3'ro  and  her  helpless 
children,  for  her  mother,  Alkidike,  was  dead,  and  Salmoneus  had 
taken  the  iron-hearted  Sidero  to  be  his  wife.  So  he  followed  her 
evil  counsels,  and  he  said  to  Tyro,  '■'■  Thy  children  must  die,  and 
thou  must  wed  Kretheus,  the  son  of  the  mighty  Aiolos.'" 

Then  Tyro  hastened  in  bitter  sorrow  to  the  banks  of  the 
stream,  and  her  babes  slept  in  her  arms,  and  she  stretched  out 
her  hands  with  a  loud  cry  for  aid.  but  Enipeus  heard  her  not,  for 
he  lay  in  his  green  dwelling  far  down  beneath  the  happy  waters. 


TYRO.  619 

So  she  placed  the  babes  amidst  the  thick  rushes  which  grew 
along  the  banks,  and  she  said,  "  O  Enipeus,  my  father  says  that 
I  may  no  more  see  thy  face;  but  to  thee  I  give  our  children; 
guard  them  from  the  anger  of  Salmoneus,  and  it  may  be  that  in 
time  to  come  they  will  avenge  my  wrongs." 

There,  nestled  amid  the  tall  reeds,  the  children  slept,  till  a 
herdsman  saw  them  as  he  followed  his  cattle  along  the  shore. 
And  Tyro  went  back  in  anguish  of  heart  to  the  house  of  Sal- 
moneus, but  she  would  not  have  the  love  of  Kretheus  or  listen  to 
his  words.  Then  Sidero  whispered  again  her  evil  counsels  into 
the  ear  of  Salmoneus,  and  he  shut  up  Tyro,  so  that  she  might 
not  see  the  light  of  the  sun  or  hear  the  voice  of  man.  He  cut 
off  the  golden  locks  that  clustered  on  her  fair  cheeks,  he  clothed 
her  in  rough  raiment,  and  bound  her  in  fetters  which  gave  her 
no  rest  by  night  or  by  day.  So  in  her  misery  she  pined  away, 
and  her  body  was  wasted  by  hunger  and  thirst,  because  she 
would  not  become  the  wife  of  Kretheus.  Then  more  and  more 
she  thought  of  the  days  when  she  listened  to  the  words  of  Eni- 
peus as  she  wandered  with  him  by  the  side  of  the  sounding 
waters,  and  she  said  within  herself,  "  He  heard  me  not  Vv^hen  I 
called  to  him  for  help,  but  I  gave  him  my  children,  and  it  may 
be  that  he  has  saved  them  from  death;  and  if  ever  they  see  my 
face  again,  they  shall  know  that  1  never  loved  any  save  Enipeus^ 
who  dwells  beneath  the  stream.'' 

So  the  years  passed  on,  and  Pelias  and  Neleus  dwelt  with 
the  herdsman,  and  they  grew  up  strong  in  body  and  brave  of 
soul.  But  Enipeus  had  not  forgotten  the  wrongs  of  Tyro,  and 
he  put  it  into  the  heart  of  her  children  to  punish  Sidero  tor  her 
evil  counsels.  So  Sidero  died,  and  they  brought  out  their 
mother  from  her  dreary  dungeon,  and  led  her  to  the  banks  of 
the  stream  where  she  had  heard  the  words  of  Enipeus  in  the 
former  days.  But  her  eyes  were  dim  with  long  weeping,  and 
the  words  of  her  children  sounded  strangely  in  her  ears,  and  she 


^20  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

saiu,  "  O  my  children,  let  me  sink  to  sleep  while  I  hear  your 
voices,  which  sound  to  me  like  the  voice  of  Enipeus."  So  she 
tell  asleep  and  died,  and  they  laid  her  body  in  the  ground  by 
the  ri\er's  bank,  where  the  waters  of  Enipeus  made  their  soft 
music  near  her  grave. 


NARKIgpOg. 

On  the  banks  of  Kephisos,  Echo  saw  and  loved  the  beauti- 
ful Narkissos,  but  the  youth  cared  not  for  the  maiden  of  the 
hills,  and  his  heart  was  cold  to  the  words  of  her  love,  for  he 
mourned  tor  his  sister,  whom  Hermes  had  taken  away  beyond 
the  St}'gian  River.  Da}'  b}-  da}'  he  sat  alone  by  the  stream- 
side,  sorrowing  for  the  bright  maiden  whose  life  was  bound  up 
with  his  own,  because  they  had  seen  the  light  of  the  sun  in  the 
self-same  day,  and  thither  came  Echo  and  sat  down  by  his  side, 
and  sought  in  vain  to  win  his  love.  "  Look  on  me  and  see,^'  she 
said,  ''  I  am  fairer  than  the  sister  for  whom  thou  dost  mourn," 
But  Narkissos  answered  her  not,  for  he  knew  that  the  maiden 
would  ever  have  something  to  say  against  his  words.  So  he  sat 
silent  and  looked  down  into  the  stream,  and  there  he  saw  his 
own  face  in  the  clear  water,  and  it  was  to  him  as  the  face  of  his 
sister  for  whom  he  pined  away  in  sorrow,  and  his  grief  became 
less  bitter  as  he  seemed  to  see  again  her  soft  blue  eye,  and 
almost  to  hear  the  words  which  came  from  her  lips.  But  the 
grief  of  Narkissos  was  too  deep  for  tears,  and  it  dried  up  slowly 
the  fountain  of  his  life,  hi  vain  the  words  of  Echo  fell  upon  his 
ears,  as  she  prayed  hiiu  to  hearken  to  her  prayer:  "  Ah,  Na^ 
kissos,  thou  mournest  for  one  who  can  not  heed  thy  sorr^v/,  and 
tliou  rarest  not  for  her  who  longs  to  see  thy  face  anc  near  thy 
voice  forever."  But  Narkissos  saw  still  in  the  waters  of  Kephi- 
sos the  f.icc  of  his  twin  sister,  and  still  gazing  at  it  he  fell  asleep 


NARKISSOS.  621 

and  died.  Then  the  voice  ot"  Echo  was  heard  no  more,  for  she 
sat  in  silence  by  his  grave,  and  a  beautiful  flower  came  up  close 
to  it.  Its  white  blossoms  drooped  over  the  banks  of  Kephisos 
where  Narkissos  had  sat  and  looked  down  into  its  clear  water, 
and  the  people  of  the  land  called  the  plant  after  his  name. 


OI^PHEU?    AND    EURYDIKE. 

In  the  pleasant  valleys  of  a  country  which  was  called  Thes- 
saly  there  lived  a  man  whose  name  was  Orpheus.  Every  day 
he  made  soft  music  with  his  golden  harp,  and  sang  beautiful 
sonofs  such  as  no  one  had  ever  heard  before.  And  whenever 
Orpheus  sang,  then  everything  came  to  listen  to  him,  and  the 
trees  bowed  down  their  heads  to  hear,  and  even  the  clouds  sailed 
along  more  gently  and  brightly  in  the  sky  when  he  sang,  and 
the  stream  wb.ich  ran  close  to  his  feet  made  a  softer  noise,  to 
show  how  glad  his  music  made  it. 

Now,  Orpheus  had  a  wife  who  was  called  Eurydike,  whom 
he  loved  very  dearly.  All  through  the  winter,  when  the  snow 
was  on  the  hills,  and  all  through  the  summer,  when  the  sunshine 
made  everything  beautiful,  Orpheus  used  to  sing  to  her,  and 
Eurydike  sat  on  the  grass  by  his  side  while  the  beasts  came 
round  to  listen,  and  the  trees  bowed  down  their  heads  to  hear 
him. 

But  one  day  when  Eurydike  was  playing  with  some  children 
on  the  bank  of  the  river,  she  trod  upon  a  snake  in  the  long  grass, 
and  the  snake  bit  her.  And  by  and  by  she  began  to  be  very 
sick,  and  Eurvdike  knew  that  she  must  die.  So  she  told  the 
children  to  go  to  Orpheus  (for  he  was  far  away)  and  say  how 
sorry  she  was  to  leave  him,  and  that  she  loved  him  always  very 
dearly,  and  then  she  put  her  head  down  upon  the  grass  and  fell 


62  2  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

aML-cj.  and  died.  Sad  indeed  was  Orpheus  when  the  children 
came  to  tell  him  that  Eurvdike  was  dead.  He  felt  so  wretched 
that  he  never  played  upon  his  golden  harp,  and  he  never  opened 
his  lips  to  sing,  and  the  beasts  that  used  to  listen  to  him  won- 
dered why  Orpheus  sat  all  alone  on  the  green  bank  where  Eury- 
dike  used  to  sit  with  him,  and  why  it  was  that  he  never  made 
any  more  of  his  beautilul  music.  All  day  long  he  sat  there,  and 
his  cheeks  were  often  wet  with  tears.  At  last  he  said,  "  I  can 
not  stav  here  any  more,  I  must  go  and  look  for  Eurydike.  I 
can  not  bear  to  be  without  her,  and  perhaps  the  king  of  the  land 
vvliere  people  go  after  they  are  dead  will  let  her  come  back  and 
live  with  me  again." 

So  he  took  his  harp  in  his  hand,  and  went  to  look  for  Eury- 
dike in  the  land  which  is  far  away,  where  the  sun  goes  down 
into  his  golden  cup  before  the  night  comes  on.  And  he  went 
on  and  on  a  \ery  long  way,  till  at  last  he  came  to  a  high  and 
dark  gateway.  It  was  barred  across  with  iron  bars,  and  it  was 
bolted  and  locked  so  that  nobody  could  open  it. 

It  was  a  wretched  and  gloomy  place,  because  the  sunshine 
never  came  there,  and  it  was  covered  with  clouds  and  mist.  In 
front  of  this  great  gateway  there  sat  a  monstrous  dog,  with  three 
heads,  and  six  eyes,  and  three  tongues,  and  ever3thing  was 
dark  around,  except  his  eyes,  which  shone  like  tire,  and  which 
saw  every  one  that  dared  to  come  near.  Now,  when  Orpheus 
came  looking  for  Eurydike,  the  dog  raised  his  three  heads,  and 
opened  his  three  mouths,  and  gnashed  his  teeth  at  him,  and 
roared  terribly,  but  when  Orpheus  came  nearer,  the  dog  jumped 
up  upon  his  feet  and  got  himself  ready  to  fly  at  him  and  tear 
him  to  pieces.  Then  Orpheus  took  down  his  harp  and  began  to 
play  upon  its  golden  strings.  And  the  dog,  Kerberos  (for  that 
was  his  name),  growled  and  snarled  and  showed  the  great  white 
teeth  which  were  in  his  three  mouths,  but  he  could  not  help  hear- 
ing the  sweet    music,  and    lu-  wondered    why  it  was    that    he   did 


ORPHEUS    AND    EURYDIKE. 


623 


not  wish  any  more  to  tear  Orpheus  in  pieces.  Ver\-  soon  tlie 
music  made  him  quiet  and  still,  and  at  last  it  lulled  him  to  sleep, 
and  .^nly  his  heav}'  breathing  told  that  there  was  an}'  dog  there. 
So  when  Kerberos  had  gone  to  sleep,  Orpheus  passed  by  him 
and  came  up  to  the  gate,  and  he  found  it  wide  open,  for  it  had 
come  open  of  its  own  accord  while  he  was  singing.  And  he  was 
glad  when  he  saw  this,  for  he  thought  that  now  he  should  see 
Eurydike. 

So  he  went  on  and  on  a  long  way,  until  he  came  to  the  pal- 
ace of  the  King,  and  there  were  guards  placed  before  the  door 
who  tried  to  keep  him  from  going  in,  but 
Orpheus  played  upon  his  harp,  and  then  they 
could  not  help  letting  him  go. 

So  he  went  into  the  great  hall,  where  he 
saw  the  King  and  Queen  sitting  on  a  throne, 
and  as  Orpheus  came  near,  the  King  called 
out  to  him  with  a  loud  and  terrible  voice, 
"  Who  are  you,  and  how  dare  you  to  come 
here?  Do  you  not  know  that  no  one  is 
allowed  to  come  here  till  after  they  are  dead? 
I  will  have  3'ou  chained  and  placed  in  a  dun- 
geon, from  which  you  will  never  be  able  to 
get  out.^'  Then  Orpheus  said  nothing,  but 
he  took  his  golden  harp  in  his  hand  and  began  ^^-^-r^  (^w^"^«  of  the  Lute). 
to  sing  more  sweetly  and  gently  than  ever,  because  he  knew  that, 
if  he  liked  to  do  so,  the  King  could  let  him  see  Eurydike  again. 
And  as  he  sang,  the  face  of  the  King  began  to  look  almost  glad, 
and  his  anger  passed  away,  and  he  began  to  feel  how  much  hap- 
pier it  must  be  to  be  gentle  and  loving  than  to  be  angry  and  cruel. 
Then  the  King  said,  "  You  have  made  me  feel  happy  with  3-our 
sweet  music,  although  I  have  never  felt  happy  before;  and  now 
tell  me  why  you  have  come,  because  }'ou  must  want  something  or 
other,  for,  otherwise,  no  one  would  come,  before  he  was  dead,  to 


624  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

this  sad  and  gloom}-  land  of  which  I  am  the  King/'  Then  Orpheus 
said,  '*  O  King,  give  me  back  my  dear  Eurydike,  and  let  her  go  from 
this  gloomv  place  and  live  with  me  on  the  bright  earth  again." 
So  the  King  said  that  she  should  go.  And  the  King  said  to 
Oi-pheus,  "  I  liave  given  you  what  you  wanted,  because  you  sang 
so  sweetly,  and  wlien  you  go  back  to  the  earth  from  this  place, 
your  wife  whom  you  love  shall  go  up  after  you,  but  remember 
tliat  you  luust  never  look  back  until  she  has  reached  the  earth, 
for  if  \ou  do,  Eurydike  will  be  brought  back  here,  and  I  shall 
not  be  able  to  give  her  to  you  again,  even  if  you  should  sing 
more  sweetly  and  gently  than  ever.'' 

Now,  Orpheus  was  longing  to  see  Eurydike,  and  he  hoped 
that  the  King  would  let  him  see  her  at  once,  but  when  the  King 
said  that  he  must  not  try  to  see  her  till  she  had  reached  the 
earth,  he  was  quite  content,  for  he  said,  "  Shall  I  not  wait 
patiently  a  little  while,  that  Eurydike  may  come  and  live  with 
me  again?"  So  he  promised  the  King  that  he  would  go  up  to 
the  earth  without  stopping  to  look  behind  and  see  whether  Eury- 
dike was  coming  after  him. 

Then  Orpheus  went  away  from  the  palace  of  the  King,  and 
he  passed  through  the  dark  gatewa\-,  and  the  dog,  Kerberos,  did 
not  bark  or  growl,  for  he  knew  that  Orpheus  would  not  have 
been  allowed  to  come  back  if  the  King  had  not  wished  it.  So 
he  went  on  and  on  a  long  wa}',  and  he  became  impatient,  and 
longed  more  and  more  to  see  Eurydike.  At  last  he  came  near 
to  the  land  ot"  living  men,  and  he  saw  just  a  little  streak  of  light, 
where  the  sun  was  going  to  rise  from  the  sea,  and  presently  the 
sky  became  brighter,  and  he  saw  everything  before  him  so 
clearly  that  he  could  not  help  turning  round  to  look  at  Eury- 
dike. But,  ah!  she  had  not  yet  quite  reached  the  earth,  and  so 
now  he  lost  her  again.  He  just  saw  something  pale  and  white, 
wiiii-h  looked  like  his  own  dear  wife,  and  he  just  heard  a  soft 
and  gentle  \()irc.  which  sounded   like  the  voice  of  Eurydike,  and 


ORPHEUS    AND    EURYDIKE. 


625 


then  it  all  melted  away.  And  still  he  thought  that  he  saw  that 
pale  white  lace,  and  heard  that  soft  and  gentle  voice,  which  said, 
"  O  Orpheus,  Orpheus,  why  did  you  look  back? 
How  dearly  I  love  you,  and  how  glad  I  should 
have  been  to  live  with  you  again,  but  now  I 
must  go  back,  because  you  have  broken  your 
promise  to  the  King,  and  I  must  not  even  kiss 
you,  and  say  how  much  I  love  you/^ 

And  Orpheus  sat  down  at  the  place  where 
Eurydike  was  taken  away  from  him,  and  he  could 
not  go  on  any  further,  because  he  felt  so  miserable. 
There  he  stayed  day  after  da}',  and  his  cheek 
became  more  pale,  and  his  body  weaker  and 
weaker,  till  at  last  he  knew  that  he  must  die. 
And  Orpheus  was  not  sorry,  for  although  he  loved 
the  bright  earth,  with  all  its  flowers  and  soft  grass 
and  sunny  streams,  he  knew  that  he  could  not  be  with  Eur3dike 
again  until  he  left  it.  So  at  last  he  laid  his  head  upon  the  earth, 
and  fell  asleep,  and  died;  and  then  he  and  Eurydike  saw  each 
other  in  the  land  which  is  far  away,  where  the  sun  goes  down 
at  night  into  his  golden  cup,  and  were  never  parted  again. 


TERPSICHORE. 

(Muse  of  Dancing) 


KADMOg    AND    EUROPA. 


In  a  beautiful  valley  in  Phcenicia,  a  long  time  ago,  two 
children,  named  Kadmos  and  Europa,  lived  with  their  mother, 
Telephassa.  They  were  good  and  happy  children,  and  full  of 
fun  and  merriment.  It  was  a  very  lovel}-  place  in  which  they 
lived,  where  there  were  all  sorts  of  beautiful  trees  with  fruits 
and  flowers.  The  oranges  shone  like  gold  among  the  dark 
leaves,  and  great  bunches  of  dates  hung  from  the  tall  palm  trees 
40 


626  ri:li(;ion  or  mythology. 

Nvliich  bowed  their  heads  as  if  they  were  asleep,  and  there  was  a 
delicious  smell  Ironi  the  lime  groves,  and  trom  many  fruits  and 
flowers  which  are  never  seen  in  America,  but  which  blossom  and 
ripen  under  the  hot  sun  in  Syria. 

So  the  years  went;  and  one  day,  as  they  were  playing  about 
bvthe  side  of  the  river,  there  came  into  the  field  a  beautiful  white 
bull.  I  le  was  tpiite  white  all  over— as  white  as  the  whitest  snow; 
there  was  not  a  single  spot  or  speck  on  any  part  of  his  body. 
And  he  came  and  la\-  down  on  the  green  grass,  and  remained 
still  and  quiet.  So  they  went  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  bull,  and 
the  bull  did  not  move,  but  looked  at  them  with  his  large  eyes  as 
if  he  wished  to  ask  them  to  come  and  play  with  him,  and  at 
last  they  came  to  the  place  where  the  bull  was.  Then  Kadmos 
thought  that  he  would  be  very  brave,  so  he  put  out  his  hand, 
and  bcLran  to  pat  the  bull  on  his  side,  and  the  bull  only  made  a 
soft  sound  to  show  how  glad  he  was.  Then  Europa  put  out  her 
hand,  and  stroked  him  on  the  face,  and  laid  hold  of  his  white 
horn,  and  the  bull  rubbed  his  face  gently  against  her  dress. 

So  bv  and  b\-  Kadmos  thought  that  it  w^ould  be  pleasant  to 
have  a  ride  on  the  back  of  the  bull,  and  he  got  on,  and  the  bull 
rose  up  Irom  the  ground,  and  went  slowly  round  the  field  with 
Kadmos  on  his  back,  and  just  for  a  minute  or  two  Kadmos  felt 
frightened,  but  when  he  saw  how  well  and  safely  the  bull  carried 
him,  he  was  not  afraid  any  more.  So  they  played  with  the  bull 
until  the  sun  sank  down  behind  the  hills,  and  then  they  hastened 
home. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  they  ran  quickly  to  Tele- 
l)hassa,  and  said  to  her,  "  Only  think,  we  have  been  playing  in 
the  field  with  a  beautilul  white  bull.'"  And  Telephassa  was  glad 
that  they  iiad  been  so  happy,  but  she  would  not  have  been  so 
glad  il   she  had  known  what  the  bull  was  going  to  do. 

Now,  the  next  day  while  Europa  was  on  its  back,  the  bull 
beiran  to  troi   ijuiekly  away,  but   Kadmos  thought   he  was  only 


KADMOS    AND    EUROPA.  627 

trottinor  away  for  fun.  So  he  ran  alter  him,  and  cried  out  to 
make  him  stop.  But  the  faster  that  Kadmos  ran,  the  bull  ran 
faster  still,  and  then  Kadmos  saw  that  the  bull  was  running  away 
with  his  sister,  Europa.  Away  the  bull  flew,  all  along  the  bank 
of  the  river,  and  up  the  steep  hill  and  down  into  the  valley  on 
the  other  side,  and  then  he  scoured  along  the  plain  beneath. 
And  Kadmos  watched  his  white  body,  which  shone  like  silver  as 
he  dashed  through  the  small  bushes  and  the  long  waving  grass 
and  the  creeping  plants  which  were  trailing  about  all  over  the 
ground,  till  at  last  the  white  body  of  the  bull  looked  only  like  a 
little  speck,  and  then  Kadmos  could  see  it  no  more. 

Very  wretched  was  Kadmos  when  his  sister  was  taken  away 
from  him  in  this  strange  way.  His  eyes  were  full  of  tears  so 
that  he  could  scarcely  see,  but  still  he  kept  on  looking  and  look- 
ing in  the  way  the  bull  had  gone,  and  hoping  that  he  would 
bring  his  sister  back  by  and  by.  But  the  sun  sank  lower  and 
lower  in  the  sky,  and  then  Kadmos  saw  him  go  down  behind  the 
hills,  and  he  knew  now  that  the  bull  would  not  come  again,  and 
then  he  began  to  weep  bitterly.  He  hardly  dared  to  go  home 
and  tell  Telephassa  what  had  happened,  and  yet  he  knew  that  he 
ought  to  tell  her.  So  he  went  home  slowly  and  sadly,  and  Tele- 
phassa saw  him  coming  alone,  and  she  began  to  be  afraid  that 
something  had  happened  to  Europa,  and  when  she  came  up  to 
him  Kadmos  could  scarcely  speak.  At  last  he  said,  "  The  bull 
has  run  away  with  Europa."  Then  Telephassa  asked  him  where 
he  had  gone,  and  Kadmos  said  that  he  did  not  know.  But 
Telephassa  said,  "Which  wa}' did  he  go  .^"  and  then  Kadmos 
told  her  that  the  bull  had  run  away  towards  the  land  of  the 
West,  where  the  sun  goes  down  into  his  golden  cup.  Then 
Telephassa  said  that  the}',  too,  must  get  up  early  in  the  morning 
and  go  towards  the  land  of  the  West,  and  see  if  they  could  find 
Europa  again. 

That  night  they  hardly  slept  at  all,  and  their  cheeks  were 


628  RELKilOX    (JR    MYTHOLOGY. 

pale  and  wet  with  their  tears.  And  before  the  sun  rose,  and 
while  the  stars  still  glimmered  in  the  pale  light  of  the  morning, 
they  got  up  and  went  on  their  journey  to  look  for  Europa.  Far 
awav  they  went,  along  tiie  valleys  and  over  the  hills,  aeross  the 
fixers  and  through  the  woods,  and  they  asked  every  one  whom 
thev  met  if  the\-  liad  seen  a  white  bull  with  a  girl  upon  its  baek. 
But  no  one  had  seen  anything  of  the  kind,  and  many  people 
thought  that  Kadmos  and  Telephassa  were  silly  to  ask  such  a 
question,  for  they  said,  "Girls  do  not  ride  on  the  backs  of  bulls; 
you  can  not  be  telling  the  truth."  So  they  went  on  and  on,  ask- 
ins:  everv  one,  but  hearing  nothing  about  her;  and  as  they  jour- 
neved,  sometimes  they  saw  the  great  mountains  rising  up  high 
into  the  sky,  with  their  tops  covered  with  snow,  and  shining  like 
gold  in  the  light  of  the  setting  sun;  sometimes  they  rested  on 
the  bank  of  a  great  broad  river,  where  the  large  white  leaves 
lav  floating  and  sleeping  on  the  water,  and  where  the  palm  trees 
waved  their  long  branches  above  their  heads.  Sometimes  they 
came  to  a  water- fall,  where  the  water  sparkled  brightly  as  it 
rushed  over  the  great  stones.  And  whenever  they  came  to  these 
beautiful  places,  Kadmos  would  say  to  Telephassa,  "  How  we 
should  have  enjoyed  staying  here  if  Europa  were  with  us;  but 
we  do  not  care  to  stay  here  now,  we  must  go  on  looking  tor  her 
everywhere."  So  they  went  on  and  on  till  they  came  to  the  sea^ 
and  they  wondered  how  they  could  get  across  it,  for  it  was  a 
great  deal  wider  than  any  river  which  the}'  had  seen.  At  last 
they  found  a  place  where  the  sea  was  narrow,  and  here  a  boat- 
man took  them  across  in  his  boat,  just  where  little  Helle  had 
been  drowned  when  she  fell  off  the  back  of  the  ram  that  was 
carrying  her  and  her  brother  away  to  Kolchis.  So  Telephassa 
and  Kadmos  crossed  over  ITellespontos,  which  means  the  Sea  of 
I  Idle,  and  they  went  on  and  on,  over  mountains  and  hills  and 
rocks,  and  wild  gloomy  places,  till  they  came  to  the  sunny  plains 
»  t  Thessaly.      And  still  the}-  asked  every  one  about  Europa.  but 


KADMOS    AND    EUROPA.  629 

they  found  no  one  who  had  seen  her.  And  Kadmos  saw  that 
his  mother  was  getting  weak  and  thin,  and  that  she  could  not 
walk  now  as  far  and  as  quickly  as  she  had  done  when  they  had 
set  out  from  home  to  look  for  his  sister.  So  he  asked  her  to  rest 
for  a  little  while.  But  Telephassa  said,  "We  must  go  on,  Kad- 
mos, for  if  we  do,  perhaps  we  may  still  find  Europa."  So  they 
went  on,  until  at  last  Telephassa  felt  that  she  could  not  go  an}^ 
further.  And  she  said  to  Kadmos,  "I  am  very  tired,  and  I  do 
not  think  I  shall  be  able  to  walk  any  more  with  you;  I  must  lie 
down  and  go  to  sleep  here,  and  perhaps,  Kadmos,  I  may  not 
wake  again.  But  if  I  die  while  I  am  asleep,  then  you  must  go 
•on  by  yourself  and  look  for  Europa,  for  I  am  quite  sure  that  you 
will  tind  her  some  da}',  although  I  shall  not  be  with  you.  And 
\vhen  you  see  your  sister,  tell  her  how  I  longed  to  find  her  again, 
and  how  much  I  loved  her  always.  And  now,  my  child,  I  must 
go  to  sleep,  and  if  I  do  not  wake  up  any  more,  then  I  trust  that 
we  shall  all  see  each  other  again  one  day,  in  a  land  which  is 
brighter  and  happier  than  even  the  land  in  which  we  used  to  live 
before  your  sister  was  taken  away  from  us." 

So  when  she  had  said  this,  Telephassa  fell  asleep,  just  as  the 
•daylight  was  going  away  from  the  sky,  and  when  the  bright 
round  moon  rose  up  slowly  from  behind  the  dark  hill.  All  night 
long  Kadmos  watched  by  her  side,  and  when  the  morning  came, 
he  saw  that  Telephassa  had  died  while  she  was  asleep.  Her 
face  was  quite  still,  and  Kadmos  knew  by  the  happy  smile  which 
was  on  it,  that  she  had  gone  to  the  bright  land  to  which  good 
people  go  when  they  are  dead.  Kadmos  was  very  sorry  to  be 
parted  from  his  mother,  but  he  was  not  sorry  that  now  she  could 
not  feel  tired  or  sorrowful  any  more.  So  Kadmos  placed  his 
mother's  body  in  the  ground,  and  very  soon  all  kinds  of  flowers 
grew  up  upon  her  grave. 

But  Kadmos  had  gone  on  to  look  for  his  sister,  Europa,  and 
presentl}'  he  met  a  shepherd  who  was  leading  his  flock  of  sheep. 


(3-.0  RELIGION    OR    .MYTHOLOGY 

He  was  very  beautiml  to  look  at.  His  lace  shone  as  bright  al- 
most as  the  sun.  He  had  a  golden  harp,  and  a  golden  bow,  and 
arrows  in  a  golden  quiver,  and  his  name  was  Phoebus  Apollo. 
And  Kadmos  went  up  to  him  and  said,  "Have  you  seen  my 
sister,  Europa?  a  white  bull  ran  away  with  her  on  his  back. 
Can  you  tell  me  where  I  can  tind  her?''  And  Phcebus  Apollo 
said,  '^  I  have  seen  your  sister,  Europa,  but  I  can  not  tell  you  yet 
where  she  is,  }'ou  must  go  on  a  great  way  further  still,  till  you 
come  to  a  town  which  is  called  Delphi,  under  a  great  mountain 
named  Parnassos,  and  there  perhaps  you  may  be  able  to  hnd  out 
something  about  her.  But  when  you  have  seen  her  you  must 
not  stay  there,  because  I  wish  you  to  build  a  city,  and  become  a 
King,  and  be  wise  and  strong  and  good.  You  and  Europa  must 
follow  a  beautiful  cow  that  I  shall  send,  till  it  lies  down  upon  the 
o-round  to  rest,  and  the  place  where  the  cow  shall  lie  down  shall 
be  the  place  where  I  wish  you  to  build  the  city." 

So  Kadmos  went  on  and  on  till  he  came  to  the  town  of 
Delphi,  which  lay  beneath  the  great  mountain,  called  Parnassos. 
And  there  he  saw  a  beautiful  temple  with  white  marble  pillars, 
which  shone  brightly  in  the  light  of  the  early  morning.  And 
Kadmos  went  into  the  temple,  and  there  he  saw  his  dear  sister, 
Europa.  And  Kadmos  said,  "  Europa,  is  it  you,  indeed?  How 
glad  I  am  to  tind  you,"  Then  Europa  told  Kadmos  how  the 
bull  had  brought  her  and  left  her  there  a  long  time  ago,  and  how 
sorr)^  she  had  been  that  she  could  not  tell  Telephassa  where  she 
was.  Then  she  said  to  Kadmos,  "  How  pale  and  thin  and  weak 
you  look;  tell  me  how  it  is  you  are  come  alone,  and  when  shall  I 
see  our  dear  mother?"  Then  nis  eves  became  full  of  tears,  and 
Kadmos  said,  "We  shall  never  see  our  mother  again  in  this 
world.  She  has  gone  to  the  happy  land  where  good  people  go 
when  they  are  dead.  She  was  so  tired  with  seeking  after  you 
that  at  last  she  could  not  come  any  further,  and  she  lay  down  and 
fell  asleep,  and  never  waked  up  again.     But  she  said  that  when 


KAt)MOS    AND    EUROPA. 


631 


I  saw  you  I  must  tell  you  how  she  longed  to  see  you,  and  how 
she  hoped  that  we  should  all  live  together  one  day  in  the  land  to 
which  she  has  gone  before  us.  And  now,  Europa,  we  must  not 
stay  here,  for  I  met  a  shepherd  whose  name  is  Phosbus  Apollo. 
He  had  a  golden  harp  and  a  golden  bow,  and  his  face  shone  like 


ANCIENT   SACRIFICE.     {From  Wall  Painting  of  Pompeii.) 

the  sun,  and  he  told  me  that  we  must  follow  a  beautiful  cow 
which  he  would  send,  and  build  a  city  in  that  place  where  the 
cow  shall  lie  down  to  rest." 

So  Europa  left  Delphi  with  her  brother,  Kadmos,  and  when 
they  had  gone  a  little  way,  they  saw  a  cow  lying  down  on  the 
grass.     But  when  they  came  near,  the  cow  got  up,  and  began  to 


632  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

walk  in  front  of  them,  and  then  they  knew  that  this  was  the 
cow  which  Phoebus  Apollo  had  sent.  So  they  ijUowed  the  cow. 
and  it  went  on  and  on,  a  long  way,  and  at  last  it  lay  down  to 
rest  on  a  large  plain,  and  Kadmos  knew  then  that  this  was  the 
place  where  he  must  build  the  city.  And  there  he  built  a  great 
many  houses,  and  the  city  was  called  Thebes.  And  Kadmos 
became  the  King  of  Thebes,  and  his  sister,  Europa,  lived  there 
with  him.  He  was  a  wise  and  good  King,  and  ruled  his  people 
justly  and  kindlw  And  by  and  by  Kadmos  and  Europa  both 
fell  asleep  and  died,  and  then  they  saw  their  mother,  Telephassa, 
in  the  happy  land  to  which  good  people  go  when  they  are  dead, 
and  were  never  parted  from  her  any  more. 


BELLEI^OPHOJ^. 

The  minstrels  sang  of  the  beauty  and  the  great  deeds  of 
Bellerophon  through  all  the  lands  of  Argos.  His  arm  was  strong 
in  the  battle,  his  feet  were  swift  in  the  chase,  and  his  heart  was 
pure  as  the  pure  heart  of  Artemis  and  Athene.  None  that  were 
})oor  and  weak  and  wretched  feared  the  might  of  Bellerophon. 
To  them  the  sight  of  his  beautiful  form  brought  only  jo}'^  and 
gladness,  but  the  proud  and  boastful,  the  slanderer  and  the  rob- 
ber, dreaded  the  glance  of  his  keen  eye.  But  the  hand  of  Zeus 
lay  heavy  upon  Bellerophon.  He  dwelt  in  the  halls  of  King 
Prcetos,  and  served  him  even  as  Herakles  served  the  mean  and 
crafty  Eur}stheus.  For  many  long  years  Bellerophon  knew  that 
he  must  obey  the  bidding  of  a  man  weaker  than  himself,  but  his 
soul  failed  him  not,  and  he  went  forth  to  his  long  toil  with  a 
heart  strong  as  the  sun  when  he  rises  in  his  strength,  and  pure  as 
the  heart  of  a  little  child. 

But  Anteia,  the  wife  of  King  Prcetos,  saw  day  by  day  the 


BELLEROPHON.  633 

beauty  of  Bellerophon,  and  she  would  not  turn  away  her  eye 
from  his  fair  face.  Every  day  he  seemed  to  her  to  be  more  and 
more  like  to  the  bright  heroes  who  feast  with  the  gods  in  the 
halls  of  high  Olympos,  and  her  heart  became  tilled  with  love, 
and  she  sought  to  beguile  Bellerophon  by  her  enticing  words. 
But  he  hearkened  not  to  her  evil  prayer,  and  heeded  not  her  tears 
and  sighs;  so  her  love  was  turned  to  wrath,  and  she  vowed  a 
vow  that  Bellerophon  should  suffer  a  sore  vengeance,  because  he 
would  not  hear  her  prayer.  Then,  in  her  rage,  she  went  to  King 
Proetos,  and  said,  "  Bellerophon,  thy  slave,  hath  sought  to  do  me 
wrong,  and  to  lead  me  astray  by  his  crafty  words.  Long  time 
he  strove  with  me  to  win  my  love,  but  I  would  not  hearken  to 
him.  Therefore,  let  thine  hand  lie  more  heavy  upon  him  than  in 
time  past,  for  the  evil  that  he  hath  done,  and  slay  him  before  my 
face.''  Then  was  Prcetos  also  full  of  anger,  but  he  feared  to 
slay  Bellerophon,  lest  he  should  bring  on  himself  the  wrath  of 
Zeus,  his  father.  So  he  took  a  tablet  of  wood,  and  on  it  he  drew 
grievous  signs  of  toil  and  war,  of  battles  and  death,  and  gave  it 
to  Bellerophon  to  carry  to  the  far-off  Lykian  land,  where  the 
father  of  Anteia  was  King,  and  as  he  bade  him  farewell,  he  said, 
'•'■  Show  this  tablet  to  the  King  of  Lykia,  and  he  will  recompense 
thee  for  all  thv  o^ood  deeds  which  thou  hast  done  for  me,  and  for 
the  people  of  Argos." 

So  Bellerophon  went  forth  on  his  long  wandering,  and 
dreamed  not  of  the  evil  that  was  to  befall  him  by  the  wicked 
craft  of  Anteia.  On  and  on  he  journeyed  towards  the  rising  of 
the  sun,  till  he  came  to  the  country  of  the  Lykians.  Then  he 
went  to  the  house  of  the  King,  who  welcomed  him  with  rich 
banquets,  and  feasted  him  for  nine  days,  and  on  the  tenth  day  he 
sought  to  know  wherefore  Bellerophon  had  come  to  the  Lykian 
land.  Then  Bellerophon  took  the  tablet  of  Proetos  and  gave  it 
to  the  King,  who  saw  on  it  grievous  signs  of  toil  and  woe,  of 
battles  and  death.     Presently  the  King  spake,  and  said,  "  There 


634  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

are  great  things  which  remain  for  thee  to  do,  Bellerophon,  but 
when  thy  toil  is  over,  high  honor  awaits  thee  here  and  in  the 
homes  of  the  bright  heroes. ""'  So  the  King  sent  him  forth  to 
sla\-  the  terrible  Chimaera,  which  had  the  face  of  a  lion  with  a 
goat's  body  and  a  dragon's  tail.  Then  Bellerophon  journeyed 
yet  further  towards  the  rising  of  the  sun,  till  he  came  to  the  pas- 
tures where  the  winged  horse,  Pegasos,  the  child  of  Gorgo,  with 
the  snaky  hair,  was  feeding,  and  he  knew  that  if  he  could  tame 
the  steed  he  sliould  then  be  able  to  conquer  the  tierce  Chimsera. 
Long  time  he  sought  to  seize  on  Pegasos,  but  the  horse 
snorted  wildly  and  tore  up  the  ground  in  his  fury,  till  Bellero- 
phon sank  wearied  on  the  earth  and  a  deep  sleep  weighed  down 
his  eyelids.  Then,  as  he  slept,  Pallas  Athene  came  and  stood 
by  his  side,  and  cheered  him  with  her  brave  words,  and  gave 
him  a  philtre  which  should  tame  the  wild  Pegasos.  When  Belle- 
rophon awoke,  the  philtre  was  in  his  hand,  and  he  knew  now 
that  he  should  accomplish  the  task  which  the  Lykian  King  had 
given  him  to  do.  So,  by  the  help  of  Athene,  he  mounted  the 
winged  Pegasos  and  smote  the  Chimaera,  and  struck  off  his  head, 
and  with  it  he  went  back,  and  told  the  King  of  all  that  had  be- 
fallen him.  But  the  King  was  filled  with  rage,  for  he  thought 
not  to  see  the  face  of  Bellerophon  again,  and  he  charged  him  to 
go  forth  and  do  battle  with  the  mighty  Sohmi  and  the  fair  Ama- 
zons. Then  Bellerophon  went  forth  again,  tor  he  dreamed  not 
of  guile  and  falsehood,  and  he  dreaded  neither  man  nor  beast 
that  might  meet  him  in  open  battle.  Long  time  he  fought  with 
the  Solymi  and  the  Amazons,  until  all  his  enemies  shrank  from 
the  stroke  of  his  mighty  arm,  and  sought  for  mercy.  Glad  of 
heart,  Bellerophon  departed  to  carry  his  spoils  to  the  home  of 
the  Lykian  King,  but  as  he  drew  nigh  to  it  and  was  passing 
through  a  narrow  dell  where  the  thick  brushwood  covered  the 
ground,  fifty  of  the  mightiest  Lykians  rushed  upon  him  with 
fierce  shoutings,  and  sousi:ht  to  slay  him.      At  the  first,  Bellero- 


BELLEROPHON.  635 

phon  withheld  his  hands,  and  said,  "  Lykian  friends,  I  have 
feasted  in  the  halls  of  your  King,  and  eaten  of  his  bread;  surely 
ye  are  not  come  hither  to  slay  me.'"  But  they  shouted  the  more 
fiercely,  and  they  hurled  spears  at  Bellerophon;  so  he  stretched 
forth  his  hand  in  the  greatness  of  his  strength,  and  did  battle  for 
his  life  until  all  the  Lykians  lay  dead  before  him. 

Weary  in  body  and  sad  of  heart,  Bellerophon  entered  the 
hall  where  the  King  was  feasting  with  his  chieftains.  And  the 
King  knew  that  Bellerophon  could  not  have  come  thither  unless 
he  had  first  slain  all  the  warriors  whom  he  had  sent  forth  to  lie 
in  wait  for  him.  But  he  dissembled  his  wrath,  and  said,  "  Wel- 
come, Bellerophon,  bravest  and  mightiest  of  the  sons  of  men. 
Thy  toils  are  done,  and  the  time  of  rest  is  come  for  thee.  Thou 
shalt  wed  my  daughter,  and  share  with  me  m}'  kingly  power." 

Then  the  minstrels  praised  the  deeds  of  Bellerophon,  and 
there  was  feasting  for  many  days  when  he  wedded  the  daughter 
of  the  King.  But  not  yet  was  his  doom  accomplished;  and 
once  again  the  dark  cloud  gathered  around  him,  laden  with  woe 
and  suffering.  Far  away  from  his  L}kian  home,  the  wrath  of 
Zeus  drove  him  to  the  western  land  where  the  sun  troes  down 
into  the  sea.  His  heart  was  brave  and  guileless  still,  as  in  the 
days  of  his  early  youth,  but  the  strength  of  his  arm  was  weak- 
ened, and  the  light  of  his  eye  was  now  dim.  Sometimes  the 
might  was  given  back  to  his  limbs,  and  his  face  shone  with  its 
ancient  beauty;  and  then,  again,  he  wandered  on  in  sadness  and 
sorrow,  as  a  man  wanders  in  a  strange  path  through  the  dark 
hours  of  night,  when  the  moon  is  down.  And  so  it  was  that 
when  Bellerophon  reached  the  western  sea,  he  fell  asleep  and 
died,  and  the  last  sight  which  he  saw  before  his  eyes  were 
closed  was  the  red  glare  of  the  dying  sun,  as  he  broke  through 
the  barred  clouds  and  plunged  beneath  the  sea. 


536  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


ALTHAIA  y\jND    THE    BUF^JNINQ  BF^AND. 

'Phere  was  feasting  in  the  halls  of  Oineus,  the  chieftain  of 
Kalydon,  in  the  .Etolian  land,  and  all  prayed  for  wealth  and 
glory  for  the  chief,  and  for  his  wife,  Althaia,  and  for  the  child 
who  had  on  that  day  been  born  to  them.  And  Oineus  besought 
the  King  of  gods  and  men  with  rich  offerings,  that  his  son, 
Meleagros,  might  win  a  name  greater  than  his  own,  that  he 
miffht  <>-row  up  stout  of  heart  and  strong  of  arm,  and  that  in  time 
to  come  men  might  say,  "  Meleagros  wrought  mighty  works  and 
did  good  deeds  to  the  people  of  the  land." 

But  the  mighty  Moirai,  whose  word  even  Zeus  himself  may 
not  turn  aside,  had  fixed  the  doom  of  Meleagros.  The  child  lay 
sleeping  in  his  mother^s  arms,  and  Althaia  prayed  that  her  son 
might  grow  up  brave  and  gentle,  and  be  to  her  a  comforter  in 
the  time  of  age  and  the  hour  of  death.  Suddenly,  as  she  yet 
spake,  the  Moirai  stood  before  her.  There  was  no  love  or  pity  in 
their  cold,  gre\'  eyes,  and  they  looked  down  with  stern,  unchang- 
ing faces  on  the  mother  and  her  child,  and  one  of  them  said, 
"  The  brand  burns  on  the  hearth,  when  it  is  burnt  wholly,  thy 
child  shall  die."  But  love  is  swifter  than  thought,  and  the 
mother  snatched  the  burning  brand  from  the  tire,  and  quenched 
its  flame  in  water,  and  she  placed  it  in  a  secret  place  where  no 
hand  but  her  own  might  reach  it. 

So  the  child  grew,  brave  of  heart  and  sturdy  of  limb,  and 
ever  ready  to  hunt  the  wild  beasts  or  to  go  against  the  cities  of 
men.  Many  great  deeds  he  did  in  the  far-oft'  Kolchian  land, 
when  the  chieftains  sailed  with  Athamas  and  Ino  to  take  away 
the  golden  fleece  from  King  Aietes.  But  there  were  greater 
things  for  him  to  do  when  he  came  again  to  Kalydon,  for  his 
father,  Oineus,  liad  roused  the  wrath  of  the  mighty  Artemis. 
There  was  rich  banqueting  in  liis  great  hall  when  his  harvest  was 


AT.THAIA    AND    THE    BURNING    BRAND.  637 

ingathered,  and  Zeus  and  all  the  other  gods  feasted  on  the  fat 
burnt-offerings,  but  no  gift  was  set  apart  for  the  virgin  child  of 
Leto.  Soon  she  requited  the  wrong  to  Oineus,  and  a  savage 
boar  was  seen  in  the  land,  which  tore  up  the  fruit-trees,  and  de- 
stroyed the  seed  in  the  ground,  and  trampled  on  the  green  corn 
as  it  came  up.  None  dared  to  approach  it,  for  its  mighty  tusks 
tore  everything  that  crossed  its  path.  Long  time  the  chieftains 
took  counsel  what  they  should  do,  until  Meleagros  said,  "  I  will 
go  forth;  who  will  follow  me.^^'  Then  from  Kalydon  and  from 
the  cities  and  lands  round  about  came  mighty  chieftains  and 
brave  youths,  even  as  they  had  hastened  to  the  ship,  Argo,  when 
they  sought  to  win  the  golden  fleece  from  Kolchis.  With  them 
came  the  Kouretes,  who  live  in  Pleuron,  and  among  them  were 
seen  Kastor  and  Polydeukes,  the  twin  brethren,  and  Theseus, 
with  his  comrade,  Peirithoos,  and  lason  and  Admetos.  But 
more  beautiful  than  all  was  Atalante,  the  daughter  of  Schoineus, 
a  stranger  from  the  Arcadian  land.  Much  the  chieftains  sought 
to  keep  her  from  the  chase,  for  the  maiden ^s  arm  was  strong,  and 
her  feet  swift,  and  her  aim  sure,  and  the}-  liked  not  that  she 
should  come  from  a  far  country  to  share  their  glory  or  take  away 
their  name.  But  Meleagros  loved  the  fair  and  brave  maiden, 
and  said,  "  If  she  go  not  to  the  chase,  neither  will  I  go  with 
you."  So  they  suffered  her,  and  the  chase  began.  At  first  the 
boar  fled,  trampling  down  those  whom  he  chanced  to  meet,  and 
rending  them  with  his  tusks,  but  at  last  he  stood  fiercely  at  bay, 
and  fought  furiously,  and  many  of  the  hunters  fell,  until  at  length 
the  spear  of  Atalante  pierced  his  side,  and  then  Meleagros  slew 
him. 

Then  was  there  great  gladness  as  they  dragged  the  body  of 
the  boar  to  Kalydon,  and  made  ready  to  divide  the  spoil.  But 
the  anger  of  Artemis  was  not  yet  soothed,  and  she  roused  a 
strife  between  the  men  of  Pleuron  and  the  men  of  Kalydon, 
For   Meleagros   sought  to  have  the  head,  and  the  Kouretes   of 


638  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

Pleuron  cared  not  to  take  the  hide  only  for  their  portion.  So 
the  strife  grew  hot  between  them,  until  Meleagros  slew  the 
chieftain  of  the  Kouretes,  who  was  the  brother  of  Althaia,  his 
mother.  Then  he  seized  the  head  of  the  boar,  and  bare  it  to 
Atalante,  and  said,  "  Take,  maiden,  the  spoils  are  rightly  thine. 
From  thy  spear  came  the  first  wound  which  smote  down  the 
boar;  and  well  hast  thou  earned  the  prize  for  the  fleetness  of  thy 
foot  and  the  sureness  of  thy  aim." 

So  Atalante  took  the  spoils  and  carried  them  to  her  home 
in  the  Arcadian  land,  but  the  men  of  Pleuron  were  full  of  wrath, 
and  they  made  war  on  the  men  of  Kalydon.  Many  times  they 
fouijht,  but  in  every  battle  the  stron^  arm  of  Meleat]^ros  and  his 
stout  heart  won  the  victory  for  the  men  of  his  own  city,  and  the 
Kouretes  began  to  grow  taint  in  spirit,  so  that  they  quailed  be- 
fore the  spear  and  sword  of  Meleagros.  But  presently  Melea- 
gros was  seen  no  more  with  his  p  eople,  and  his  voice  was  no 
longer  heard  cheering  them  on  to  the  battle.  No  more  would 
he  take  lance  in  hand  or  litl  up  his  shield  for  the  strife,  but  he 
tarried  in  his  own  house  by  the  side  of  the  beautiful  Kleopatra, 
whom  Idas,  her  father,  gave  to  him  to  be  his  wife. 

For  the  heart  of  his  mother  was  filled  with  grief  and  rao-e 
when  she  heard  the  story  of  the  deadly  strife,  and  that  Melea- 
gros, her  child,  had  slain  her  brother.  In  heavy  wrath  and  sor- 
row she  sat  down  upon  the  earth,  and  she  cast  the  dust  from  the 
ground  into  the  air,  and  with  wild  words  called  on  Hades, 
the  unseen  King,  and  Persephone,  who  shares  his  dark  throne: 
"  Lord  of  the  lands  beneath  the  earth,  stretch  forth  thy  hand 
against  Meleagros,  my  child.  lie  has  quenched  the  love  of  a 
mother  in  m}-  brother's  blood,  and  I  will  that  he  should  die." 
And  even  as  she  prayed,  the  awful  Erinys,  who  wanders 
through  the  air,  heiird  her  words  and  swore  to  accomplish  the 
doom.  But  Meleagros  was  yet  more  wrathful  when  he  knew 
that  his  mother  had  laid  her  curse  upon  him,  and   therefore  he 


ALTHAIA    AND    THE    BURNING    BRAND. 


639 


would  not  go  forth  out  of  his  chamber  to  the  aid  of  his  people 
in  the  war. 

So  the  Kouretes  grew  more  and  more  mighty,  and  their 
warriors  came  up  against  the  City  of  Kalydon,  and  would  no 
longer  suffer  the  people  to  come  witnout 
the  walls.  And  everywhere  there  was 
faintness  of  heart  and  grief  of  spirit,  for 
the  enemy  had  wasted  their  fields  and 
slain  the  bravest  of  the  men,  and  little 
store  remained  to  them  of  food.  Day  by 
day  Oineus  besought  his  son,  and  the  great 
men  of  the  city  fell  at  the  knees  of  Melea- 
gros  and  prayed  him  to  come  out  to  their 
help,  but  he  would  not  hearken.  Still  he 
tarried  in  his  chamber  with  his  wife,  Kleo- 
patra,  by  his  side,  and  heeded  not  the  hun- 
ger and  the  wailings  of  the  people.  Fiercer 
and  fiercer  waxed  the  roar  of  war;  the 
loosened  stones  rolled  from  the  tottering 
wall,  and  the  battered  gates  were  scarce  able  to  keep  out  the 
enemy.  Then  Kleopatra  fell  at  her  husband's  knee,  and  she 
took  him  by  the  hand,  and  called  him  gently  by  his  name,  and 
said,  "  O  Meleagros,  if  thou  wilt  think  of  thy  wrath,  think  also 
of  the  evils  which  war  brings  with  it — how  when  a  city  is  taken, 
the  men  are  slain,  and  the  mother  with  her  child,  the  old  and 
the  young  are  borne  away  into  slavery.  If  the  men  of  Pleuron 
win  the  day,  thy  mother  may  repent  her  of  the  curse  which  she 
has  laid  upon  thee;  but  thou  wilt  see  thy  children  slain  and  me  a 
slave." 

Then  Meleagros  started  from  his  couch  and  seized  his  spear 
and  shield.  He  spake  no  word,  but  hastened  to  the  walls,  and 
soon  the  Kouretes  fell  back  before  the  spear  which  never  missed 
its  mark.     Then  he  gathered  the  warriors  of  his  city,  and  bade 


MELPOMENE. 

{Muse  of  Tragedy.) 


640  RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 

them  open  the  gates,  and  went  forth  against  the  enemy.  Long 
and  dreadful  was  the  battle,  but  at  length  the  Kouretes  turned 
and  fled,  and  the  danger  passed  away  from  the  men  of  Kalydon. 

But  the  Moirai  still  remembered  the  doom  ot'  the  burning 
brand,  and  the  unpitN'ing  Erinys  had  not  forgotten  the  curse  of 
Althaia,  and  they  moved  the  men  of  Kalydon  to  withhold  the 
prize  of  his  good  deeds  from  the  chieftain,  Meleagros.  "  He 
came  not  forth,"  they  said,  "  save  at  the  prayer  of  his  wife.  He 
hearkened  not  when  we  besought  him,  he  heeded  not  our  misery 
and  tears;  why  should  we  give  him  that  which  he  did  not  win 
from  any  love  for  us?"  So  his  people  were  angry  with  Melea 
gros,  and  his  spirit  grew  yet  more  bitter  within  him.  Once 
again  he  lay  within  his  chamber,  and  his  spear  and  shield  hung 
idle  on  the  wall,  and  it  pleased  him  more  to  listen  the  whole  day 
long  to  the  soft  words  of  Kleopatra  than  to  be  doing  brave  and 
good  deeds  for  the  people  of  his  land. 

Then  the  heart  of  his  mother,  Althaia,  was  more  and  more 
turned  away  from  him,  so  that  she  said  in  bitterness  of  spirit^ 
"What  good  shall  his  life  now  do  to  me.^"  and  she  brought 
forth  the  half-burnt  brand  from  its  secret  place,  and  cast  it  on  the 
hearth.  Suddenly  it  burst  into  a  flame,  and  suddenly  the  strength 
of  Meleagros  began  to  fail  as  he  lay  in  the  arms  of  Kleopatra. 
"My  life  is  wasting  within  me,"  he  said;  "clasp  me  closer  in 
thine  arms;  let  others  lay  a  curse  upon  me,  so  only  I  die  rejoicing 
in  thv  love."  Weaker  and  weaker  irrew  his  failinof  breath,  but 
still  he  looked  with  loving  eyes  on  the  face  of  Kleopatra,  and  his 
spirit  went  forth  with  a  sigh  of  gladness,  as  the  last  spark  of  the 
brand  flickered  out  upon  the  hearth. 

Tl'ien  was  there  grief  and  sorrow  in  the  house  of  Oineus 
and  through  all  the  City  of  Kalydon,  but  the}'  wept  and  mourned 
in  vain.  They  thought  now  of  his  good  deeds,  his  wise  coun- 
sels, and  his  mighty  arm,  but  in  vain  they  bewailed  the  death  of 
their  chieftain  in  the  glory  of  his   age.     Yet   deeper   and   more 


ALTHAIA  AND  THE  BURNING  BRAND.  64I 

bitter  was  the  sorrow  of  Althaia,  for  the  love  of  a  mother  came 
back  to  her  heart  when  the  Moirai  had  accompHshed  the  doom 
of  her  child.  And  yet  more  bitterly  sorrowed  his  wife,  Kleo- 
patra,  and  yearned  for  the  love  which  had  been  torn  away  trom 
her.  There  was  no  more  joy  within  the  halls  of  Oineus,  for  tlie 
Erinyshad  done  their  task  well.  Soon  Althaia  followed  her  child 
to  the  unknown  land,  and  Kleopatra  went  forth  with  j()\-  to 
meet  Meleagros  in  the  dark  kingdom  of  Hades  and  Persephone. 


lAJVlOp. 

On  the  banks  of  Alpheios,  Evadne  watched  over  her  new- 
born babe,  till  she  fled  away  because  she  feared  the  wrath  of 
Aipytos,  vvho  ruled  in  Phaisana.  The  tears  streamed  down  lier 
cheeks  as  she  prayed  to  Phcebus  Apollo,  who  dwells  at  Delphi, 
and  said,  "  Lord  of  the  bright  day,  look  on  thy  child,  and  guard 
him  when  he  lies  forsaken,  for  I  may  no  longer  tarry  near  him." 

So  Evadne  fled  away,  and  Phcebus  sent  two  serpents,  who 
fed  the  babe  with  honey  as  he  lay  amid  the  flowers  which  clus- 
tered round  him.  And  ever  more  and  more  through  all  the  land 
went  forth  the  saying  of  Phoebus,  that  the  child  of  Evadne 
should  grow  up  mighty  in  wisdom  and  in  the  power  ot  telling 
the  things  that  should  happen  in  the  time  to  come.  Tiicn 
Aipytos  asked  of  all  who  dwelt  in  his  house  to  tell  him  where 
he  might  And  the  son  of  Evadne.  But  they  knew  not  wliere  the 
child  la}',  for  the  serpents  had  hidden  him  far  away  in  tb.c 
thicket,  where  the  wild  flowers  sheltered  him  from  wind  and 
heat.  Long  lime  they  searched  amid  the  tall  reeds  which 
clothe  the  banks  of  Alpheios,  until  at  last  they  found  the  babe 
lying  in  a  bed  of  violets.  So  Aipytos  took  the  child  and  called 
his  name  lamos,  and  he  grew  up  brave  and  wise  of  heart,  pon- 

4^ 


642 


RELIGION    OR    MYTHOLOGY. 


dering  well  the  signs  of  coming  grief  and  joy,  and  the  tokens  of 
hidden  things  which  he  sn.w  in  the  heaven  above  him  or  the  wide 
earth  beneath.  He  spake  but  little  to  the  youths  and  maidens 
who  dwelt  in  the  house  of  Aipytos,  but  he  wandered  on  the  bare 
hills  or  by  the  stream  side,  musing  on  many  things.  And  so  it 
came  to  pass  that  one  night,  when  the  stars  glimmered  softly  in 

the  sky,  lamos  plunged  beneath  the 
waters  of  Alpheios,  and  prayed  to 
Phoebus  who  dwells  at  Delphi,  and 
to  Poseidon,  the  lord  of  the  broad 
sea;  and  he  besought  them  to  open 
his  eyes,  that  he  might  reveal  to 
the  sons  of  men  the  things  which 
of  themselves  they  could  not  see. 
Then  they  led  him  away  to  the 
high  rocks  which  look  down  on  the 
plain  of  Pisa,  and  they  said,  "  Look 
CLIO  {Muse  of  History).  3'onder,  child  of  Evadne,  where  the 

white  stream  of  Alpheios  winds  its  wa}^  gently  to  the  sea.  Here, 
in  the  days  which  are  to  come,  Herakles,  the  son  of  the  mighty 
Zeus,  shall  gather  together  the  sons  of  Helen,  and  give  them  in 
the  solemn  games  the  mightiest  of  all  bonds;  hither  shall  they 
come  to  know  the  will  of  Zeus,  and  here  shall  it  be  thy  work 
and  the  work  of  thy  children  to  read  to  them  the  signs  which  of 
themselves  they  can  not  understand.'"  Then  Phcebus  Apollo 
touched  his  ears,  and  straightway  the  voices  of  the  birds  spake 
to  him  clearly  of  the  things  which  were  to  come  and  he  heard 
their  words  as  a  man  listens  to  the  speech  of  his  friend.  So 
lamos  prospered  exceedingly,  for  the  men  of  all  tlie  Argive  land 
sought  aid  from  his  wisdom,  and  laid  rich  gifts  at  his  feet.  And 
he  taught  his  children  after  liim  to  speak  the  truth  and  to  deal 
justly,  so  that  none  envied  their  great  wealth,  and  all  men  spake 
Well  of  the  wise  children  of  lamos. 


rm  'm?>' 


The  artistic  instinct  is  one  of  the  earliest  developed  in  man; 
the  love  of  representation  is  evolved  at  the  earliest  period;  we 
see  it  in  the  child,  we  see  it  in  the  savage,  we  find  traces  of  it 
among  primitive  men.  The  child  in  his  earliest  years  loves  to 
trace  the  forms  of  objects  familiar  to  his  eyes.  The  savage  takes 
a  pleasure  in  depicting  and  rudely  giving  shape  to  objects  which 
constantly  meet  his  view.  The  artistic  instinct  is  of  all  ages  and 
of  all  climes;  it  springs  up  naturally  in  all  countries,  and  takes  its 
origin  alike  ever3'where  in  the  imitative  faculty  of  man.  Evi- 
dences of  this  instinct  at  the  earliest  period  have  been  discovered 
among  the  relics  of  primitive  men;  rough  sketches  on  slate  and 
on  stone  of  the  mammoth,  the  deer,  and  of  man,  have  been 
found  in  the  caves  of  France;  the  American  savage  traces  rude 
hunting  scenes,  or  the  forms  of  animals  on  the  covering  of  his 
tents,  and  on  his  buffalo  robes;  the  savage  Australian  covers  the 
side  of  caverns,  and  the  faces  of  rocks  with  coarse  drawings  of 
animals.  We  thus  find  an  independent  evolution  of  the  art  of 
design,  and  distinct  and  separate  cycles  of  its  development 
through  the  stages  of  rise,  progress,  maturit}',  decline  and  decay, 
in  many  countries  the  most  remote  and  unconnected  with  one 
another.  The  earliest  mode  of  representing  men,  animals  and 
objects  was  in  outline  and  in  profile.  It  is  evidently  the  most 
primitive  style,  and  characteristic  of  the  commencement  of  the 
art,  as  the  first  attempts  made  by  children  and  uncivilized  people 

^43 


644 


FINE    ARTS. 


arc  solely  confined  to  it;  the  most  inexperienced  perceive  the  ob- 
ject intended  to  be  represented,  and  no  effort  is  required  to  com- 
prehend it.  Outline  figures  were  thus  in  all  countries  the  earliest 
style  of  painting-,  and  we  find  this  mode  practiced  at  a  remote 
period  in  Egypt  and  in  Greece.  In  Egypt  we  meet  paintings  in 
this  earliest  stage  of  the  art  of  design  in  the  tombs  of  Beni 
Hassan,  dating  from  over  2000  B.  C.  They  are  illustrative  of 
the  manners  and  customs  of  that  age.  Tradition  tells  us  that 
the  origin  of  the  art  of  design  in  Greece  was  in  tracing  in  out- 
line and  in  profile  the  shadow  of  a  human  head  on  the  wall  and 
afterwards  filling  it  in  so  as  to  present  the  appearance  of  a  kind 
of  silhouette.  The  Greek  painted  vases  of  the  earliest  epoch 
exhibit  examples  of  this  style.  From  this  humble  beginning  the 
art  of  design  in  Greece  rose  in  gradually  successive  stages,  until 
it  reached  its  highest  degree  of  perfection  under  the  hands  of 
Zeuxis  and  Apelles. 

The  interest  that  attaches  to  Eg}-ptian  art  is  from  its  great 
antiquit}'.  We  see  it  in  the  first  attempts  to  represent  what  in 
after  times,  and  in  some  other  countries,  gradually  arrived,  under 
better  auspices,  at  the  greatest  perfection;  and  we  even  trace  in  it 
the  germ  of  much  that  was  improved  upon  b\'  those  who  had  -a 
higher  appreciation  of,  and  feeling  for,  the  beautitul.  For,  both 
in  ornamental  art,  as  well  as  in  architecture,  Egypt  exercised  in 
early  times  considerable  influence  over  other  people  less  ad- 
vanced than  itself,  or  onlv  just  emerging  from  barbarism;  and  the 
various  conventional  devices,  the  lotus  flowers,  the  sphinxes,  and 
other  fabulous  animals,  as  well  as  the  early  Medusa's  head,  with 
a  protruding  tongue,  of  the  oldest  Greek  pottery  and  sculptures, 
and  the  ibex,  leopard,  and  above  all  the  (Nile)  "goose  and  sun," 
on  the  vases,  show  them  to  be  connected  with,  and  frequently 
directly  borrowed  from,  Egyptian  fancy.  It  was,  as  it  still  is,  the 
custom  of  people  to  borrow  Irom  those  who  have  attained  to  a 
greater  degree  of  refinement  and  civilization  than  themselves;  the 


ANCIENT  ART  AND  LITERATURE. 


645 


646 


FINE    ARTS. 


nation  most  advanced  in  art  led  the  taste,  and  though  some  had 
sufficient  invention  to  alter  what  they  adopted,  and  to  render  it 
their  own,  the  original  idea  may  still  be  traced  whenever  it  has 
been  derived  from  a  foreign  source.  Egypt  was  long  the  domi- 
nant nation,  and  the  intercourse  established  at  a  very  remote 
period  with  other  countries,  through  commerce  of  war,  carried 
abroad  the  taste  of  this  the  most  advanced  people  of  the  time; 
and  so  general  seems  to  have  been  the  fashion  of  their  orna- 
ments, that  even  the  Nineveh  marbles  present  the  winged  globe, 
and  other  well-known  Eg3'ptian  emblems,  as  established  elements 
of  Assyrian  decorative  art. 

While  Greece  was  still  in  its  infancy,  Egypt  had  long  been 
the  leading  nation  of  the  world;  she  was  noted  for  her  magnifi- 
cence, her  wealth,  and  power,  and  all  acknowledged  her  pre- 
eminence in  wisdom  and  civilization.  It  is  not,  therefore,  sur- 
prising that  the  Greeks  should  have  admitted  into  their  early  art 
some  of  the  forms  then  most  in  vogue,  and  though  the  wonderful 
taste  of  that  gifted  people  speedily  raised  them  to  a  point  of 
excellence  never  attained  by  the  Egyptians  or  any  others,  the 
rise  and  first  germs  of  art  and  architecture  must  be  sought  in  the 
Valley  of  the  Nile.  In  the  oldest  monuments  of  Greece,  the 
sloping  or  pyramidal  line  constantly  predominates;  the  columns 
in  the  oldest  Greek  order  are  almost  purely  Egyptian,  in  the  pro- 
portions of  the  shaft,  and  in  the  form  of  its  shallow  flutes  without 
fillets;  and  it  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  the  oldest  Egyptian 
columns  are  those  which  bear  the  closest  resemblance  to  the 
Greek  Doric. 

Though  great  variety  was  permitted  in  objects  of  luxur}', 
as  furniture,  vases,  and  other  things  depending  on  caprice,  the 
Egyptians  were  forbidden  to  introduce  any  material  innovations 
into  the  human  figure,  such  as  would  alter  its  general  character, 
and  all  subjects  connected  with  religion  retained  to  the  last  the 
same  conventional  type.     A  god  in  the  latest  temple  was  of  the 


EGYPTIAN    SCULPTURE.  647 

same  form  as  when  represented  on  monuments  of  the  earHest 
date;  and  King  Menes  would  have  recognized  Amun,  or  Osiris, 
in  a  Ptolemaic  or  a  Roman  sanctuary.  In  sacred  subjects  the 
law  was  inflexible,  and  religion,  which  has  frequently  done  sq 
much  for  the  development  and  direction  of  taste  in  sculpture,  had 
the  effect  of  fettering  the  genius  of  Egyptian  artists.  No  im- 
provements, resulting  from  experience  and  observation,  were 
admitted  in  the  mode  of  drawing  the  human  figure;  to  copy 
nature  was  not  allowed;  it  was  therefore  useless  to  study  it,  and 
no  attempt  was  made  to  give  the  proper  action  to  the  Hmbs. 
Certain  rules,  certain  models,  had  been  established  by  the  priest- 
hood, and  the  faulty  conceptions  of  ignorant  times  were  copied 
and  perpetuated  by  every  successive  artist.  For,  as  Plato  and 
Synesius  say,  the  Egyptian  sculptors  were  not  suffered  to  at- 
tempt anything  contrary  to  the  regulations  laid  down  regarding 
the  figures  of  the  gods;  they  were  forbidden  to  introduce  any 
change,  or  to  invent  new  subjects  and  habits,  and  thus  the  art, 
and  the  rules  which  bound  it,  always  remained  the  same. 

Egyptian  bas-relief  appears  to  have  been,  in  its  origin,  a 
mere  copy  of  painting,  its  predecessor.  The  first  attempt  to 
represent  the  figures  of  gods,  sacred  emblems,  and  other  subjects, 
consisted  in  drawing  or  painting  simple  outlines  of  them  on  a 
flat  surface,  the  details  being  afterwards  put  in  with  color;  but 
in  process  of  time  these  forms  were  traced  on  stone  with  a  tool, 
and  the  intermediate  space  between  the  various  figures  being  after- 
wards cut  away,  the  once  level  surface  assumed  the  appearance  of 
a  bas-relief  It  was,  in  fact,  a  pictorial  representation  on  stone, 
which  is  evidently  the  character  of  all  the  bas-reliefs  on  Egj-p- 
tian  monuments,  and  which  readily  accounts  for  the  imperfect 
arrangement  of  their  figures. 

Deficient  in  conception,  and  above  all  in  a  proper  knowledge 
of  grouping,  they  were  unable  to  form  those  combinations  which 
give  true   expression;    every   picture  was  made  up   of  isolated 


648  FINE    ARTS. 

parts,  put  together  according  to  some  general  notions,  but  with- 
out harmonv,  or  preconceived  effect.  The  human  tace,  the 
whole  bod\',  and  everything  the}'  introduced,  were  composed  in 
the  same  manner,  of  separate  members  placed  together  one  by 
one  according  to  their  relative  situations:  the  eye,  the  nose,  and 
other  features  composed  a  lace,  but  the  expression  of  feelings 
and  passions  was  entirely  wanting;  and  the  countenance  of  the 
Kins^,  whether  charging  an  enemy's  phalanx  in  the  heat  of  battle, 
or  joeaceably  offering  incense  in  a  sombre  temple,  presented  the 
same  outline  and  the  same  inanimate  look.  The  peculiarity  of 
the  front  view  of  an  e}-e,  introduced  in  a  profile,  is  thus  ac- 
counted for:  it  was  the  ordinary  representation  of  that  feature 
added  to  a  profile,  and  no  allowance  was  made  for  any  change  in 
the  position  of  the  head. 

It  was  the  same  with  drapery:  the  figure  was  first  drawn, 
and  the  drapery  then  added,  not  as  part  of  the  whole,  but  as  an 
accessory;  they  had  no  general  conception,  no  previous  idea  of 
the  etTect  required  to  distinguish  the  warrior  or  the  priest,  be- 
}-()nd  the  impressions  received  from  costume,  or  from  the  subject 
of  which  thev  ibrmed  a  part,  and  the  same  figure  was  dressed 
according  to  the  character  it  was  intended  to  perform.  Every 
portion  of  a  picture  was  conceived  by  itself,  and  inserted  as  it 
was  wanted  to  complete  the  scene;  and  when  the  walls  of  the 
building,  wliere  a  subject  was  to  be  drawn,  had  been  accurately 
ruled  with  squares,  the  figures  were  introduced,  and  fitted  to  this 
mechanical  arrangement.  The  members  were  appended  to  the 
body,  and  these  squares  regulated  their  form  and  distribution,  in 
whatever  posture  they  might  be  placed. 

As  long  as  this  conventional  s}'stem  continued,  no  great 
change  could  take  place,  beyond  a  slight  variation  in  the  propor- 
tions, whicli  at  one  period  became  more  elongated,  particularly 
in  the  reign  of  the  second  Rcmeses;  but  still  the  general  form 
and  character  of  the  figures  continued  the  same,  which  led  to  the 


EGYPTIAN    SCULPTURE.  649 

remark  of  Plato,  "  that  the  pictures  and  statues  made  ten  thou- 
sand years  ago,  are  in  no  one  particular  better  or  worse  than 
what  they  now  make."  And  taken  in  this  Hmited  sense — that 
no  nearer  approach  to  the  beau  ideal  of  the  human  figure,  or  its 
real  character,  was  made  at  one  period  than  another — his  remark 
is  true",  since  they  were  always  bound  by  the  same  regulations, 
which  prohibited  any  change  in  these  matters,  even  to  the  latest 
times,  as  is  evident  from  the  sculptures  of  the  monuments 
erected  after  Egypt  had  long  been  a  Roman  province.  All  was 
still  Egyptian,  though  of  bad  style;  and  if  they  then  attempted 
to  finish  the  details  with  more  precision,  it  was  only  substituting 
ornament  for  simplicity;  and  the  endeavor  to  bring  the  propor- 
tions of  the  human  figure  nearer  to  nature,  with  the  retention  of 
its  conventional  type,  only  made  its  deformity  greater,  and  shov/ed 
how  incompatible  the  Egyptian  was  with  any  other  style. 

In  the  composition  of  modern  paintings  three  objects  are 
required:  one  main  action,  one  point  of  view,  and  one  instant  of 
time,  and  the  proportions  and  harmony  of  the  parts  are  regu- 
lated by  perspective,  but  in  Egyptian  sculpture  these  essentials 
M^ere  disregarded;  every  thing  was  sacrificed  to  the  principal 
figure;  its  colossal  dimensions  pointed  it  out  as  a  center  to 
which  all  the  rest  was  a  mere  accessory,  and,  if  any  other  was 
made  equally  conspicuous,  or  of  equal  size,  it  was  still  in  a  sub- 
ordinate station,  and  only  intended  to  illustrate  the  scene  con- 
nected with  the  hero  of  the  piece. 

In  the  paintings  of  the  tombs  greater  license  was  allowed 
in  the  representation  of  subjects  relating  to  private  life,  the  trades, 
or  the  manners  and  occupations  of  the  people,  and  some  indica- 
tion of  perspective  in  the  position  of  the  figures  rnay  occasionally 
be  observed ;  but  the  attempt  was  imperfect,  and,  probably,  to  an 
Egyptian  e}^,  unpleasing,  for  such  is  the  force  of  habit,  that  even 
where  nature  is  copied,  a  conventional  style  is  sometimes  pre- 
ferred to  a  more  accurate  representation. 


650  FINE    ARTS. 

In  the  battle  scenes  on  the  temples  of  Thebes,  some  of  the 
figures  representing-  the  monarch  pursuing  the  fl}'ing  enemy, 
despatching  a  hostile  chief  with  his  sword,  and  drawing  his  bow% 
as  his  horses  carry  his  car  over  the  prostrate  bodies  of  the  slain, 
are  drawn  with  much  spirit,  and  the  position  of  the  arms  gives 
a  perfect  idea  of  the  action  which  the  artist  intended  to  portray; 
still,  the  same  imperfections  of  style,  and  want  of  truth,  are  ob- 
served; there  is  action,  but  no  sentiment,  expression  of  the  pas- 
sions, nor  life  in  the  features;  it  is  a  figure  read}'  formed,  and 
mechanically  varied  into  movement,  and  whatever  position  it  is 
made  to  assume,  the  point  of  view  is  the  same:  the  identical  pro- 
file of  the  human  body  with  the  anomaly  of  the  shoulders  seen 
in  front.     It  is  a  description  rather  than  a  representation. 

But  in  their  mode  of  portraying  a  large  crowd  of  persons 
they  often  show  great  cleverness,  and,  as  their  habit  was  to  avoid 
uniformit}",  the  varied  positions  of  the  heads  give  a  truth  to  the 
subject  without  fatiguing  the  eye.  Nor  have  the}'  any  symmetri- 
cal arrangement  of  figures,  on  opposite  sides  of  a  picture,  such 
as  we  find  in  some  of  the  very  early  paintings  in   Europe. 

As  their  skill  increased,  the  mere  figurative  representation 
was  extended  to  that  of  a  descriptive  kind,  and  some  resemblance 
of  the  hero's  person  was  attempted;  his  car,  the  army  he  com- 
manded, and  the  flying  enemies,  were  introduced,  and  what  was 
at  first  scarcely  more  than  a  symbol,  aspired  to  the  more  exalted 
form  and  character  of  a  picture.  Of  a  similar  nature  were  all 
their  historical  records,  and  these  pictorial  illustrations  were  a 
substitute  for  written  documents.  Rude  drawing  and  sculpture, 
indeed,  long  preceded  letters,  and  we  find  that  even  in  Greece,  to 
describe,  draw,  engrave,  and  write,  were  expressed  by  the  same 
word. 

Of  the  quality  of  the  pencils  used  by  the  Egyptians  for 
drawing  and  painting,  it  is  difiicult  to  form  any  opinion.  Those 
generally  employed  for  writing  were  a  reed   or  rush,  many  of 


ETRUSCAN    PAINTING.  65  I 

which  have  been  found  with  the  tablets  or  inkstands  belonging 
to  the  scribes;  and  with  these,  too,  they  probably  sketched  the 
figures  in  red  and  black  upon  the  stone  or  stucco  of  the  walls. 
To  put  in  the  color,  we  may  suppose  that  brushes  of  some  kind 
were  used,  but  the  minute  scale  on  which  the  painters  are 
represented  in  the  sculptures  prevents  our  deciding  the  question. 

Habits  among  men  of  similar  occupations  are  frequently 
alike,  even  in  the  most  distant  countries,  and  we  find  it  was  not 
unusual  for  an  Egyptian  artist,  or  scribe,  to  put  his  reed  pencil 
behind  his  ear,  when  engaged  in  examining  the  effect  of  his  paint- 
ing, or  listening  to  a  person  on  business,  like  a  clerk  in  the 
counting-house. 

The  Etruscans,  it  is  said,  cultivated  painting  before  the 
Greeks,  and  Pliny  attributes  to  the  former  a  certain  degree  of 
perfection  before  the  Greeks  had  emerged  from  the  infancy  of 
the  art.  Ancient  paintings  at  Ardea,  in  Etruria,  and  at  Lanu- 
vium  still  retained,  in  the  time  of  Pliny,  all  their  primitive  fresh- 
ness. According  to  Pliny,  paintings  of  a  still  earlier  date  were 
to  be  seen  at  Ca^re,  another  Etruscan  city.  Those  paintings 
mentioned  by  Pliny  were  commonly  believed  to  be  earlier  than 
the  foundation  of  Rome.  At  the  present  day  the  tombs  of 
Etruria  afford  examples  of  Etruscan  painting  in  every  stage  of 
its  development,  from  the  rudeness  and  conventionality  of  early 
art  in  the  tomb  of  Veii  to  the  correctness  and  ease  of  design, 
and  the  more  perfect  development  of  the  art  exhibited  in  the 
painted  scenes  in  the  tombs  of  Tarquinii.  In  one  of  these  tombs 
the  pilasters  are  profusely  adorned  with  arabesques,  and  a  frieze 
which  runs  round  the  side  of  the  tomb  is  composed  of  painted 
figures  draped,  winged,  armed,  fighting,  or  borne  in  chariots. 
The  subjects  of  these  paintings  are  various;  in  them  we  find  the 
ideas  of  the  Etruscans  on  the  state  of  the  soul  after  death,  com- 
bats of  warriors,  banquets,  funeral  scenes.  The  Etruscans  painted 
also  bas-reliefs  and  statues. 


652 


FINE    ARTS 


The  Greeks  carried  painting  to  the  highest  degree  of  perfec- 
tion; their  first  attempts  were  long  posterior  to  those  of  the 
Egyptians;  they  do  not  even  date  as  far  back  as  the  epoch  of  the 
sie"-e  of  Troy;  and  Pliny  remarks  that  Homer  does  not  mention 
painting.  The  Greeks  always  cultivated  sculpture  in  preference. 
Pausanias  enumerates  only  eighty-eight  paintings,  and  forty-three 
portraits;  he  describes,  on  the  other  hand,  2,827  statues.  These 
were,  in  fact,  more  suitable  ornaments  to  public  places,  and  the 
gods  were  always  represented  in  the  temple  by  sculpture.  In 
Greece  painting  followed  the  invariable  law  of  development.  Its 
cycle  was  run  through.  Painting  passed  through  the  successive 
stages  of  rise,  progress,  maturity,  decline,  and  decay.  The  art 
of  design  in  Greece  is  said  to  have  had  its  origin  in  Corinth. 
The  legend  is:  the  daughter  of  Dibutades,  a  potter  of  Corinth, 
struck  by  the  shadow  of  her  lover's  head  cast  by  the  lamp  on 
the  wall,  drew  its  outline,  filling  it  in  with  a  dark  shadow. 
Hence,  the  earliest  mode  of  representing  the  human  figure  was 
a  silhouette.  The  simplest  form  of  design  or  drawing  was  mere 
outline,  or  monogrammon,  and  was  invented  by  Cleanthes,  of 
Corinth.  After  this  the  outlines  were  filled  in,  and  light  and 
shade  introduced  of  one  color,  and  hence  were  styled  mono- 
chromes. Telephanes,  of  Sicyon,  further  improved  the  art  by 
indicating  the  principal  details  of  anatomy;  Euphantes,  of  Cor- 
inth, or  Craton,  of  Sicyon,  by  the  introduction  of  color.  Cimon, 
of  Clcon?e,  is  the  first  who  is  mentioned  as  having  advanced  the 
art  of  painting  in  Greece,  and  as  having  emancipated  it  from  its 
archaic  rigidity,  by  exchanging  the  conventional  manner  of  ren- 
dering the  human  form  for  an  approach  to  truthfulness  to  nature. 
He  also  first  made  muscular  articulations,  indicated  the  veins, 
and  gave  natural  folds  to  draperies.  He  is  also  supposed  to  have 
been  the  first  who  used  a  variety  of  colors,  and  to  have  intro- 
duced foreshortening.  The  first  painter  of  great  renown  was 
Polygnotus.     Accurate  drawing,  and  a  noble  and  distinct  man- 


RENOWNED    PAINTERS. 


^53 


ner  of  characterizing  the  most  different  mythological  forms  was 
his  great  merit;  his  female  figures  also  possessed  charms  and 
grace.  His  large  tabular  pictures  were  conceived  with  great 
knowledge  of  legends,  and  in  an  earnest  religious  spirit.  At 
Athens  he  painted,  according  to  Pausanias,  a  series  of  paintings 
of  mythological  subjects  in  the  Pinakotheke  in  the  Propvla:a  on 
the  Acropolis,  and  pictorial  decorations  for  the  temple  of  The- 
seus, and  the  Poecile.  He  executed  a  series  of  paintings  at 
Delphi  on  the  long  walls  of  the  Lesche.  The  wall  to  the  right 
on  entering  the  Lesche  bore  scenes  illustrative  of  the  epic  myth 
of  the  taking  of  Troy;  the  left,  the  visit  of  Ulysses  to  the  lower 
world,  as  described  in  the  Odyssey.  Pliny  remarks  that  in  place 
of  the  old  severity  and  rigidity  of  the  features  he  introduced  a 
great  variety  of  expression,  and  was  the  first  to  paint  figures 
with  the  lips  open.  Lucian  attributes  to  him  great  improve- 
ments in  the  rendering  of  drapery  so  as  to  show  the  forms  under- 
death.  Apollodorus,  of  Athens,  was  the  first  great  mastei  of 
light  and  shade.  According  to  Pliny  he  was  the  first  to  paint 
men  and  things  as  they  really  appear.  A  more  advanced  stage 
of  improved  painting  began  with  Zeuxis,  in  which  art  aimed  at 
illusion  of  the  senses  and  the  rendering  of  external  charms.  He 
appears  to  have  been  equally  distinguished  in  the  representation 
of  female  charms,  and  of  the  sublime  majesty  of  Zeus  on  his 
throne.  His  masterpiece  was  his  picture  of  Helen,  in  painting 
which  he  had  as  his  models  the  five  most  beautiful  virgins  of 
Croton. 

Neither  the  place  nor  date  of  the  birth  of  Zeuxis  can  be 
accurately  ascertained,  though  he  was  probably  born  about  455 
B.  C,  since  thirty  years  after  that  date  we  find  him  practicing 
his  art  with  great  success  at  Athens.  He  was  patronized  by 
Archclaus,  King  of  Macedonia,  and  spent  some  time  at  his  court. 
He  must  also  have  visited  Magna  Grsecia,  as  he  painted  his 
celebrated  picture  of  Helen  for  the  City  of  Croton.     He  acquired 


654 


FINE    ARTS. 


great  wealth  by  his  pencil,  and  was  very  ostentatious  in  display- 
ing it.  He  appeared  at  Oh-mpia  in  a  magnificent  robe,  having 
his  name  embroidered  in  letters  of  gold,  and  the  same  vanity  is 
also  displayed  in  the  anecdote  that,  alter  he  had  reached  the  sum- 
mit of  his  fame,  he  no  longer  sold,  but  gave  away,  fiis  pictures, 
as  being  above  all  price.  With  regard  to  his  style  of  art,  single 
figures  were  his  favorite  subjects.  He  could  depict  gods  or 
heroes  with  sufiicient  majesty,  but  he  particularly  excelled  in 
painting  the  softer  graces  of  female  beauty.  In  one  important 
respect  he  appears  to  have  degenerated  from  the  style  of  Poly- 
gnotus,  his  idealism  being  rather  that  o( Jorni  than  of  character 
and  expression.  Thus  his  style  is  analogous  to  that  of  Euripides 
in  tragedy.  He  was  a  great  master  of  color,  and  his  paintings 
were  sometimes  so  accurate  and  life-like  as  to  amount  to  illusion. 
This  is  exemplified  in  the  story  told  of  him  and  Parrhasius.  As 
a  trial  of  skill,  these  artists  painted  two  pictures.  That  of  Zeuxis 
represented  a  bunch  of  grapes,  and  was  so  naturally  executed 
that  the  birds  came  and  pecked  at  it.  After  this  proof,  Zeuxis^ 
confident  of  success,  called  upon  his  rival  to  draw  aside  the  cur- 
tain which  concealed  his  picture.  But  the  painting  of  Parrhasius 
was  the  curtain  itself,  and  Zeuxis  was  now  obliged  to  acknowl- 
edge himself  vanquished,  for,  though  he  had  deceived  birds, 
Parrhasius  had  deceived  the  author  of  the  deception.  But  many 
of  the  pictures  of  Zeuxis  also  displayed  great  dramatic  power. 
He  worked  very  slowly  and  carefully,  and  he  is  said  to  have 
replied  to  somebody  who  blamed  him  for  his  slowness,  "  It  is 
•  true  I  take  a  long  time  to  paint,  but  then  I  paint  works  to  last  a 
long  time."  His  master-piece  was  the  picture  of  Helen,  already 
mentioned. 

Parrhasius  was  a  native  of  Ephesus,  but  his  art  was  chiefly 
exercised  at  Athens,  where  he  was  presented  with  the  right  of 
citizenship.  His  date  can  not  be  accurately  ascertained,  but  he 
was  probably  rather  younger  than  his  contemporary,  Zeuxis,  and 


PARRHASIUS. 


655 


it  is  certain  that  he  enjoyed  a  high  reputation  before  the  death 
of  Socrates.  The  style  and  degree  of  excellence  attained  by 
Parrhasius  appear  to  have  been  much  the  same  as  those  of 
Zeuxis.  He  was  particularly  celebrated  for  the  accuracy  of  his 
drawing,  and  the  excellent  proportions  of  his  figures.     For  these 


fffwjp^;^^^^^^  im 


PAINTING.     (2600  years  old.) 

he  established  a  canon,  as  Phidias  had  done  in  sculpture  for  gods, 
and  Polycletus  for  the  human  figure,  whence  Quintilian  calls 
him  the  legislator  of  his  art.  His  vanity  seems  to  have  been  as 
remarkable  as  that  of  Zeuxis.  Among  the  most  celebrated  of 
his  works  was  a  portrait   of  the  personified  Athenian  Demos, 


656  FINE    ARTS. 

which  is  said  to  have  miraculously  expressed  even  the  most  con- 
tradictory qualities  of  that  many-headed  personage. 

Parrhasius  excelled  in  giving  a  roundness  and  a  beautiful 
contour  to  his  figures,  and  was  remarkable  for  the  richness  and 
variety  of  his  creations.  His  numerous  pictures  of  gods  and 
heroes  attained  the  highest  consideration  in  art.  He  was  over- 
come, however,  in  a  pictorial  contest,  in  which  the  subject  was 
the  contest  of  Ulysses  and  Ajax  for  the  arms  of  Achilles,  by  the 
ingenious  Timanthes,  in  whose  sacrifice  of  Iphigenia  the  ancients 
admired  the  expression  of  grief  carried  to  that  pitch  of  intensity 
at  which  art  had  only  dared  to  hint.  The  most  striking  feature 
in  the  picture  was  the  concealment  of  the  face  of  Agamemnon  in 
his  mantle.  (The  concealment  of  the  face  of  Agamemnon  in 
this  picture  has  been  generally  considered  as  a  "  trick  "  or  in- 
genious invention  of  Timanthes,  when  it  was  the  result  of  a 
fundamental  law  in  Greek  art — to  represent  alone  what  was 
beautiful,  and  never  to  present  to  the  eye  anything  repulsive  or  dis- 
agreeable; the  features  of  a  father  convulsed  with  grief  would 
not  have  been  a  pleasing  object  to  gaze  on;  hence  the  painter, 
fully  conscious  of  the  laws  of  his  art,  concealed  the  countenance 
of  Agamemnon.)  Timanthes  was  distinguished  for  his  invention 
and  expression.  Before  all,  however,  ranks  the  great  Apelles, 
who  united  the  advantages  of  his  native  Ionia — grace,  sensual 
charms,  and  rich  coloring — with  the  scientific  accuracy  ot  the 
Sicyonian  school.  The  most  prominent  characteristic  of  his 
style  was  grace  (charis),  a  quality  which  he  himself  avowed  as 
peculiarly  his,  and  which  serves  to  unite  all  the  other  gifts  and 
faculties  which  the  painter  requires;  perhaps  in  none  of  his 
pictures  was  it  exhibited  in  such  perfection  as  in  his  famous 
Anadyomene,  in  which  Aphrodite  is  represented  rising  out  of 
the  sea,  and  wringing  the  wet  out  of  her  hair.  But  heroic 
subjects  were  likewise  adapted  to  his  genius,  especially  grandly- 
conceived  portraits,  such  as   the  numerous   likenesses  of  Alex- 


■•*:on. 


Jiitiliil 


1 


.■■'•■  ■^■^ 


over. 


was 
rdis- 
■ould 
nter, 
ance 


the 

his 

as     U: 


m  Yt 


¥  '  |- ' 


«.^it  I 


RENOWNED    PAINTERS.  657 

ander,  by  whom  he  was  warmly  patronized.  He  not  only  repre- 
sented Alexander  with  the  thunderbolt  in  his  hand,  but  he  even 
attempted,  as  the  master  in  light  and  shade,  to  paint  thunder- 
storms, probably  at  the  same  time  as  natural  scenes  and  mytho- 
logical personifications.  The  Anadyomene,  originally  painted 
for  the  temple  of  ^sculapius,  at  Cos,  was  transferred  by  Augus- 
tus to  the  temple  of  D.  Julius,  at  Rome,  where,  however,  it  was 
in  a  decayed  state  even  at  the  time  of  Nero.  Contemporane- 
ously with  him  flourished  Protogenes  and  Nicias.  Protogenes 
was  both  a  painter  and  a  statuary,  and  was  celebrated  for  the 
high  finish  of  his  works.  His  master-piece  was  the  picture  of 
lalysus,  the  tutelary  hero  of  Rhodes,  where  he  lived.  He  is  said 
to  have  spent  seven  years  on  it.  Nicias,  of  Athens,  was  cele- 
brated for  the  delicacy  with  which  he  painted  females.  He  was 
also  famous  as  an  encaustic  painter,  and  was  employed  by  Prax- 
iteles to  apply  his  art  to  his  statues.  The  glorious  art  of  these 
masters,  as  far  as  regards  light,  tone,  and  local  colors,  is  lost  to 
us,  and  we  know  nothing  of  it  except  from  obscure  notices  and 
later  imitations.  It  is  not  thus  necessar}"  to  speak  at  length  of 
the  various  schools  of  painting  in  Greece,  their  works  being  all 
lost,  the  knowledge  of  the  characteristics  peculiar  to  each  school 
would  be  at  the  present  day  perfectly  useless.  Painting  had  to 
follow  the  invariable  law  of  all  development;  having  reached  a 
period  of  maturity,  it  followed,  as  a  necessary  consequence,  that 
the  period  of  decline  should  begin.  The  art  of  this  period  of 
refinement,  Mr.  Wornum  writes,  which  has  '^een  termed  the 
Alexandrian,  because  the  most  celebrated  artist  ''f  this  period 
lived  about  the  time  of  Alexander  the  Great,  was  the  last  of 
progression,  or  acquisition,  but  it  only  added  variety  of  effect  to 
the  tones  it  could  not  improve,  and  was  principally  characterized  by 
the  diversity  of  the  styles  of  so  many  contemporary  artists.  The 
decadence  of  the  arts  immediately  succeeded,  the  necessary  conse- 
quence, when,  instead  of  excellence,  variety  and  originality  be- 
42 


658  FINE    ARTS. 

came  the  end  of  the  artist.  The  tendencies  which  are  pecuHar 
to  tliis  period  gave  birth  sometimes  to  pictures  which  ministered 
to  a  low  sensviaHty;  sometimes  to  works  which  attracted  by  their 
effects  of  Hght,  and  also  to  caricatures  and  travesties  of  mytho- 
logical subjects.  The  artists  of  this  period  were  under  the 
necessitv  of  attracting  attention  by  novelt}'  and  variety;  thus 
rh\parography,  and  the  lower  classes  of  art,  attained  the  ascend- 
encw  and  became  the  characteristic  styles  of  the  period.  In 
these  Pyreicus  was  pre-eminent;  he  was  termed  rhyparographos, 
on  account  of  the  mean  quality  of  his  subjects.  After  the  de- 
struction of  Corinth  by  Mummius  and  the  spoliation  of  Athens 
bv  Sylla  the  art  of  painting  experienced  a  rapid  and  total  decay. 

We  shall  now  make  a  few  extracts  from  Mr.  Wornum's 
excellent  article  on  the  vehicles,  materials,  colors,  and  methods 
of  painting  used  by  the  Greeks. 

The  Greeks  painted  with  wax,  resins,  and  in  water-colors,  to 
which  they  gave  a  proper  consistency,  according  to  the  material 
upon  which  they  pamted,  with  gum,  glue,  and  the  white  of  egg; 
sum  and  oflue  were  the  most  common. 

They  painted  upon  wood,  clay,  plaster,  stone,  parchment, 
and  canvas.  They  generally  painted  upon  panels  or  tables,  and 
very  rarely  upon  walls;  and  an  easel,  similar  to  what  is  now 
used,  was  common  among  the  ancients.  These  panels,  when 
finished,  were  fixed  into  frames  of  various  descriptions  and 
materials,  and  encased  in  w^alls.  The  ancients  used  also  a  pal- 
ette very  simila'  to  that  used  by  the  moderns,  as  is  sufficiently 
attested  by  r.  :resco  painting  from  Pompeii,  which  represents  a 
female  paintiug  a  copy  of  Hermes,  for  a  votive  tablet,  with  a 
palette  in  her  left  hand. 

The  earlier  Grecian  masters  used  only  four  colors:  the  earth 
of  Melos  for  white;  Attic  ochre  for  yellow;  Sinopis,  an  earth 
from  Pontus,  for  red;  and  lamp-black;  and  it  was  with  these 
simple  elements  that  Zeuxis,  Polygnotus,  and  others  of  that  age, 


COLORS    USED.  659 

executed  their  celebrated  works.  By  degrees  new  coloring  sub- 
stances were  found,  such  as  were  used  by  Apelles  and  Protogenes. 

So  great,  indeed,  is  the  number  of  pigments  mentioned  by 
ancient  authors,  and  such  the  beauty  of  them,  that  it  is  very 
doubtful  whether,  with  all  the  help  of  modern  science,  modern 
artists  possess  any  advantage  in  this  respect  over  their  predeces- 
sors. 

We  now  give  the  following  list  of  colors,  known  to  be  gen- 
erally used  b}^  ancient  painters: 

Red. — The  ancient  reds  were  very  numerous,  cinnabar,  ver- 
milion, bisulphuret  of  mercury,  called  also  by  Pliny  and  Vitru- 
vius,  minium.  The  cinnabaris  indica,  mentioned  by  Pliny  and 
Dioscorides,  was  what  is  vulgarly  called  dragon's  blood,  the 
resin  obtained  from  various  species  of  the  calamus  palm.  Miltos 
seems  ^ to  have  had  various  significations;  it  was  used  for  cin- 
nabaris, minium,  red  lead,  and  rubrica,  red  ochre.  There  were 
various  kinds  of  rubricge;  all  were,  however,  red  oxides,  of 
which  the  best  were  the  Lemnian,  from  the  Isle  of  Lemnos,  and 
the  Cappadocian,  called  by  the  Romans  rubrica  sinopica,  from 
Sinope  in  Paphlagonia.  Minium,  red  oxide  of  lead,  red  lead, 
was  called  by  the  Romans  cerussa  usta,  and,  according  to  Vitru- 
vius,  sandaracha. 

The  Roman  sandaracha  seems  to  have  had  various  significa- 
tions. Pliny  speaks  of  the  different  shades  of  sandaracha;  there 
was  also  a  compound  color  of  equal  parts  of  sandaracha  and 
rubrica  calcined,  called  sandyx,  which  Sir  H.  Davy  supposed  to 
approach  our  crimson  in  tint;  in  painting  it  was  frequently  glazed 
with  purple,  to  give  it  additional  lustre. 

YeUovj. — Yellow-ochre,  hydrated  peroxide  of  iron,  the  sit 
of  the  Romans,  formed  the  base  of  many  other  yellows,  mixed 
with  various  colors  and  carbonate  of  lime.  Ochre  was  procured 
from  different  parts — the  Attic  was  considered  the  best;  some- 
times the  paler  sort  of  sandaracha  was  used  for  yellow. 


66o  FINE    ARTS. 

Green. — Chrysocolla,  whicli  appears  to  have  been  green 
carbonate  of  copper,  or  malaciiite  (green  verditer),  was  the 
green  most  approved  ol'  by  the  ancients;  there  was  also  an  arti- 
ficial kind  which  was  made  from  clay  impregnated  with  sulphate 
of  copper  (blue  vitriol)  rendered  green  by  a  yellow  dye.  The 
commonest  and  cheapest  colors  were  the  Appianum,  which  was 
a  chn-,  and  the  creta  viridis,  the  common  green  earth  of  Verona. 

jSlue. — The  ancient  blues  were  very  numerous;  the  princi- 
pal of  these  was  coeruleum,  azure,  a  species  of  verditer,  or  blue 
carbonate  of  copper,  of  which  there  were  man}-  varieties.  The 
Alexandrian  was  the  most  valued,  as  approaching  the  nearest  to 
ultramarine.  It  was  also  manufactured  at  Pozzuoli.  This  imi- 
tation was  called  ccclon.  Armcnium  was  a  metallic  color,  and 
was  prepared  by  being  ground  to  an  impalpable  powder.  It  was 
of  a  lifht  blue  color.  It  has  been  conjectured  that  ultramarine 
(lapis  lazuli)  was  known  to  the  ancients  under  the  name  of  Arme- 
nium,  from  Armenia,  whence  it  was  procured.  It  is  evident, 
however,  from  Pliny''s  description,  that  the  "  sapphirus  "  of  the 
ancients  was  the  lapis  lazuli  of  the  present  day.  It  came  from 
Media. 

Indigo,  indicum,  was  well  known  to  the  ancients. 

Purple. — The  ancients  had  several  kinds  of  purple,  purpur- 
issimum,  ostrum,  hysginum,  and  various  compound  colors.  Pur- 
purissimum  was  made  from  creta  argentaria,  a  fine  chalk  or 
clay,  steeped  in  a  purple  dye,  obtained  from  the  murex.  In 
color  it  ranged  between  minium  and  blue,  and  included  every 
degree  in  the  scale  of  purple  shades.  The  best  sort  came  from 
Pozzuoli.  Purpurissimum  indicum  was  brought  from  India. 
It  was  of  a  deep  blue,  and  probably  was  the  same  as  indigo. 
Ostrum  was  a  liquid  color,  to  which  the  proper  consistence  was 
given  by  adding  honey.  It  was  produced  from  the  secretion  of 
a  fish  called  ostrum,  and  differed  in  tint  according  to  the  country 
from    whence    it    came;    being   deeper   and    more   violet  when 


COLORS    USED.  66l 

brought  from  the  northern,  redder  when  from  the  southern 
coasts  of  the  Mediterranean.  The  Roman  ostrum  was  a  com- 
pound of  red  ochre  and  blue  oxide  of  copper.  Hysginum, 
according  to  Vitruvius,  is  a  color  between  scarlet  and  purple. 
The  celebrated  Tyrian  dye  was  a  dark,  rich  purple,  of  the  color 
of  coagulated  blood,  but,  when  held  against  the  light,  showed  a 
crimson  hue.  It  was  produced  by  a  combination  of  the  secre- 
tions of  the  murex  and  buccinum.  In  preparing  the  dye  the 
buccinum  was  used  last,  the  dye  of  the  murex  being  necessary 
to  render  the  colors  fast,  while  the  buccinum  enlivened  by  its  tint 
of  red  the  dark  hue  of  the  murex.  Sir  H.  Davy,  on  examining 
a  rose-colored  substance,  found  in  the  baths  of  Titus,  which  in 
its  interior  had  a  lustre  approaching  to  that  of  carmine,  consid- 
ered it  a  specimen  of  the  best  Tyrian  purple.  The  purpura,  as 
mentioned  in  Pliny,  was  an  amethyst  or  violet  color. 

Brown. — Ochra  usta,  burnt  ochre. — The  browns  were 
ochres  calcined,  oxides  of  iron  and  manganese,  and  compounds 
of  ochres  and  blacks. 

Black. — Atramentum,  or  black,  v/as  of  two  sorts,  natural 
and  artificial.  The  natural  was  made  from  a  black  earth,  or 
from  the  secretion  of  the  cuttle-fish,  sepia.  The  artificial  was 
made  of  the  dregs  of  wine  carbonized,  calcined  ivory,  or  lamp- 
black. The  atramentum  indicum,  mentioned  by  Pliny,  was 
probably  the  Chinese  Indian  ink. 

White. — The  ordinary  Greek  white  was  melinum,  an  earth 
from  the  Isle  of  Melos;  for  fresco-painting  the  best  was  the  Afri- 
can paroetonium.  There  was  also  a  white  earth  of  Eretria  and 
the  annularian  white.  Carbonate  of  lead,  or  white  lead,  cerussa, 
was  apparently  not  much  used  by  the  ancient  painters.  It  has 
not  been  found  in  an}'  of  the  remains  of  painting  in  Roman 
ruins. 

Methods  of  Paintin<r. — There  were  two  distinct  classes  of 
painting  practiced  by  the  ancients — in  water  colors  and  in  wax, 


662  FINE    ARTS. 

both  of  which  were  practiced  in  \arious  ways.  Of  the  former 
the  principal  were  fresco,  al  fresco;  and  the  various  kinds  of  dis- 
temper (a  tempera),  witli  glue,  witli  the  white  of  egg,  or  with 
gums  (a  guazzo);  and  with  wax  or  resins  when  these  were  ren- 
dered by  any  means  vehicles  that  could  be  w^orked  with  wMter. 
Of  the  latter  the  principal  was  through  fire,  termed  encaustic. 

Fresco  was  probably  little  employed  by  the  ancients  for 
works  of  imitative  art,  but  it  appears  to  have  been  the  ordinary 
method  of  simply  coloring  walls,  especially  amongst  the  Romans. 
Coloring  al  fresco,  in  which  the  colors  were  mixed  simply  in 
water,  as  the  term  implies,  was  applied  when  the  composition  of 
the  stucco  on  the  walls  was  still  wet  (udo  tectorio),  and  on  that 
account  was  limited  to  certain  colors,  for  no  colors  except  earths 
can  be  employed  in  this  w%ay. 

The  fresco  walls,  when  painted,  were  covered  with  an 
encaustic  varnish,  both  to  heighten  the  colors  and  to  preser\'e 
them  from  the  injurious  eftects  of  the  sun  or  the  weather. 
Vitruvius  describes  the  process  as  a  Greek  practice.  When 
the  wall  was  colored  and  dry,  Punic  wax,  melted  and  tempered 
with  a  little  oil,  was  rubbed  over  it  with  a  hard  brush  (seta); 
this  was  made  smooth  and  even  by  appl3^ing  a  cauteriuni  or  an 
iron  pan,  filled  with  live  coals,  over  the  surface,  as  near  to  it  as 
was  just  necessary  to  melt  the  wax;  it  was  then  rubbed  with  a 
candle  (w\ax')  and  a  clean  cloth.  In  encaustic  painting  the  wax 
colors  were  hiinil  info  the  ground  by  means  of  a  hot  iron  (called 
cauteriuni)  or  pan  of  hot  coals  being  held  near  the  surface  of  the 
picture.  The  mere  process  ol'  burning  in  constitutes  the  whole 
difference  between  encaustic  and  the  ordiiiary  method  of  painting 
with  wax  colors. 

We  shall  now  sa}^  a  few  words  with  regard  to  the  much 
canvassed  question  ot"  painting  or  coloring  statues.  Its  antiquity 
and  universality  admit  of  no  doubt.  Indeed,  the  practice  of 
painting  statues  is  a  characteristic  of  a   primitive  and  workman- 


SCULPTURE    PAINTING.  663 

ship  of  clay  or  wood.  It  was  a  survival  of  the  old  religious 
practices  of  daubing  the  early  statues  of  the  gods  with  vermilion, 
and  was  done  to  meet  the  superstitious  tastes  of  the  uneducated. 
Statues  for  religious  purposes  may  have  been  painted  in  obedi- 
ence to  a  formula  prescribed  by  religion,  but  statues  as  objects 
of  art,  on  which  the  sculptor  exhibited  all  his  genius  and  taste, 
were  unquestionably  executed  in  the  pure  and  uncolored  marble 
alone.  In  the  chryselephantine,  or  ivory  statues  of  Jove  and 
Minerva,  by  Phidias,  art  was  made  a  handmaid  to  religion. 
Phidias  himself  would  have  preferred  to  have  executed  them  in 
marble. 

We  ina}'  further  remark  that  form,  in  its  purest  ideal,  being 
the  chief  aim  of  sculpture,  any  application  of  color,  which  would 
detract  from  the  purity  and  ideality  of  this  purest  of  the  arts, 
could  never  be  agreeable  to  refined  taste.  Coloring  sculpture 
and  giving  it  a  life-like  reality  is  manifestly  trenching  on  the 
province  of  painting,  and  so  departing  from  the  true  principle  of 
sculpture,  which  is  to  give  form  in  its  most  perfect  and  idealized 
development.  We  must  also  consider  that  sculpture  in  marble, 
by  its  whiteness,  is  calculated  for  the  display  of  light  and  shade. 
For  this  reason  statues  and  bas-reliefs  were  placed  either  in  the 
open  light  to  receive  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun,  or  in  under- 
ground places,  or  thermae,  where  they  received  their  light  either 
from  an  upper  window,  or,  by  night,  from  the  strong  light  of  a 
lamp,  the  sculptor  having  for  that  purpose  studied  the  effects  of 
the  shadows.  It  must  also  be  remembered  that  the  statues  in 
Greek  and  Roman  temples  received  their  light  from  the  upper 
part  of  the  building,  many  of  the  temples  being  hypaethral,  thus 
having  the  benefit  of  a  top  light,  the  sculptor's  chief  aim.  Color 
in  these  statues  or  bas-reliefs  would  have  tended  to  mar  the  con- 
trasts of  light  and  shade,  and  blended  them  too  much;  for  ex- 
ample, color  a  photograph  of  a  statue,  which  exhibits  a  marked 
contrast  of  light  and  shade,  and  it  will  tend  to  confuse  and  blend 


664  FINE    ARTS. 

the  two.  The  taste  for  polychrome  sculpture  in  the  period  of 
the  decline  of  art  was  obviously  but  a  returning  to  the  primitive 
imperfection  of  art,  when  an  attempt  was  made  to  produce  illu- 
sion in  ordci"  to  please  the  uneducated  taste  of  the  vulgar. 

The  Romans  derived  their  knowledge  of  painting  from  the 
Etruscans,  their  ancestors  and  neighbors;  the  first  Grecian 
painters  who  came  to  Italy  are  said  to  have  been  brought  over 
by  Demaratus,  the  father  of  Tarquinius  Priscus,  King  of  Rome; 
at  all  events  Etruria  appears  to  have  exercised  extensive  in- 
fluence over  the  arts  of  Rome  during  the  reign  of  the  Tarquins. 
Tradition  attributes  to  them  the  first  works  which  were  used  to 
adorn  the  temples  of  Rome,  and,  according  to  Pliny,  not  much 
consideration  was  bestowed  either  on  the  arts  or  on  the  artists. 
Fabius,  the  first  among  the  Romans,  had  some  painting  executed 
in  the  temple  of  Salus,  from  which  he  received  the  name  of 
Pictor.  The  works  of  art  brought  from  Coi^inth  by  Mummius, 
iVom  Athens  by  Sulla,  and  from  Syracuse  by  Marcellus,  intro- 
duced a  taste  for  paintings  and  statues  in  their  public  buildings, 
which  eventually  became  an  absorbing  passion  with  many  dis- 
tinguished Romans.  Towards  the  end  of  the  republic  Rome 
was  full  of  painters.  Julius  Cscsar,  Agrippa,  Augustus,  were 
among  the  earliest  great  patrons  of  artists.  Suetonius  informs 
us  tliat  Cjesar  expended  great  sums  in  the  purchase  of  pictures 
bv  the  old  masters.  Under  Augustus,  Marcus  Ludius  painted 
marine  subjects,  landscape  decorations,  and  historic  landscape  as 
ornamentation  for  the  apartments  of  villas  and  country  houses. 
He  invented  that  style  of  decoration  which  we  now  call  ara- 
besque or  grotesque.  It  spread  rapidly,  insomuch  that  the  baths 
of  Titus  and  Li  via,  the  remains  discovered  at  Cumoe,  Pozzuoli, 
Ilerculaneum,  Stabiai,  Pompeii,  in  short,  whatever  buildings 
about  that  date  have  been  found  in  good  preservation,  afford 
numerous  and  beautiful  examples  of  it.  At  this  time,  also,  a 
passion  for  portrait  painting   prevailed;  an   art    which   flattered 


FRESCO    PAINTING.  665 

their  vanity  was  more  suited  to  the  tastes  of  the  Romans  than 
the  art  which  could  produce  beautiful  and  refined  works  similar 
to  those  of  Greece.  Portraits  must  have  been  exceedingly 
numerous;  Varro  made  a  collection  of  the  portraits  of  700  emi- 
nent men.  Portraits,  decorative  and  scene  painting,  seem  to  have 
engrossed  the  art.  The  example,  or  rather  the  pretensions,  of 
Nero  must  also  have  contributed  to  encourage  painting  in  Rome; 
but  Roman  artists  were,  however,  but  few  in  number;  the  vic- 
tories of  the  consuls,  and  the  rapine  of  the  praetors,  were  suffi- 
cient to  adorn  Rome  with  all  the  master-pieces  of  Greece  and 
Italy.  They  introduced  the  fashion  of  having  a  taste  for  the 
beautiful  works  of  Greek  art.  At  a  later  period,  such  was  the 
corrupt  state  of  taste,  that  painting  was  almost  left  to  be  prac- 
ticed by  slaves,  and  the  painter  was  estimated  by  the  quantity 
of  work  that  he  could  do  in  a  day. 

The  remains  of  painting  found  at  Pompeii,  Herculaneum, 
and  in  the  baths  of  Titus,  at  Rome,  are  the  only  paintings  which 
can  give  us  any  idea  of  the  coloring  and  painting  of  the 
ancients,  which,  though  they  exhibit  many  beauties,  particu- 
larly in  composition,  are  evidently  the  works  of  inferior  artists 
in  a  period  of  decline.  At  Pompeii  there  is  scarcely  a  house 
the  walls  of  which  are  not  decorated  with  fresco  paintings. 
The  smallest  apartments  were  lined  with  stucco,  painted  in  the 
most  brilliant  and  endless  variety  of  colors,  in  compartments 
simply  tinted  with  a  light  ground,  surrounded  by  an  ornamental 
margin,  and  sometimes  embellished  with  a  single  figure  or 
subject  in  the  center,  or  at  equal  distances.  These  paintings 
are  ver}'  frequently  historical  or  mythological,  but  embrace 
every  variety  of  subject,  some  of  the  most  exquisite  beauty. 
Landscape  painting  was  never  a  favorite  with  the  ancients, 
and  if  ever  introduced  in  a  painting,  was  subordinate.  The 
end  and  aim  of  painting  among  the  ancients  was  to  represent 
and  illustrate  the   myths   of  the   gods,  the  deeds  of  heroes,  and 


066  FINE    ARTS. 

important  historical  events,  hence  giving  all  prominence  to  the 
delineation  of  the  human  form.  Landscape,  on  the  other  hand, 
illustrated  nothing,  represented  no  important  event  deserving  of 
record,  and  was  thus  totally  without  significance  in  a  Grecian 
temple  or  pinacotheca.  In  an  age  of  decline,  as  at  Pompeii,  it 
was  employed  tor  mere  decorative  purposes.  Many  architectural 
subjects  are  continually  found  in  which  it  is  easy  to  trace  the 
true  principles  of  perspective,  but  they  are  rather  indicated 
than  minutely  expressed  or  accurately  displayed;  whereas  in 
most  instances  a  total  want  of  the  knowledge  of  this  art  is  but 
too  evident.  Greek  artists  seem  to  have  been  employed;  indeed, 
nati\e  painters  were  few,  while  the  former  everywhere  abounded, 
and  their  superiority  in  design  must  have  always  insured  them 
the  preference. 

The  subjects  of  Roman  mural  paintings  are  usually  Greek 
myths;  in  the  composition  and  style  we  see  Greek  conception, 
modified  by  Roman  influence.  The  style  of  drawing  is  rather 
dexterous  than  masterly;  rapidity  of  execution  seems  to  be 
more  prized  than  faithful,  conscientious  representation  of  the 
truth  of  nature;  the  drawing  is  generally  careless,  and  effects 
are  sometimes  produced  by  tricks  and  expedients,  which  belong 
rather  to  scene-painting  than  to  the  higher  branches  of  art.  It 
must  not,  however,  be  forgotten  that  the  majority  of  these 
pictures  were  architectural  decorations,  not  meant  to  be  regarded 
as  independent  compositions,  but  as  parts  of  larger  compositions, 
in  which  they  were  inserted  as  in  a  frame.  As  examples  of 
ancient  coloring  they  are  of  the  highest  interest,  and  much 
may  be  learnt  from  them  in  reference  to  the  technical  materials 
and  processes  employed  by  ancient  artists. 


pCULPTUf^INQ. 

We  do  not  intend  to  enter  here  on  the  history  of  sculpture 
in  alv  its  phases,  but  to  give  the  distinctive  features  which  char- 
acterize the  different  styles  of  Egyptian,  Greek,  and  Roman 
sculpture,  as  they  are  visible  in  statues  of  the  natural  or  colossal 
size,  in  statues  of  lesser  proportion,  and  lastly  in  busts  and  bas- 
reliefs. 

We  shall  give  also  the  styles  of  each  separate  nation  w^hich 
prevailed  at  each  distinct  age  or  epoch,  styles  w^hich  mark  the 
stages  of  the  development  of  the  art  of  sculpture  in  all  countries. 
Sculpture,  like  architecture  and  painting,  indeed  all  art,  had  an 
indigenous  and  independent  evolution  in  all  countries,  all  these 
arts  springing  up  naturally,  and  taking  their  origin  alike  every- 
where in  the  imitative  faculty  of  man.  They  had  their  stages 
of  development  in  the  ascending  and  descending  scales,  their  rise, 
progress,  culminating  point,  decline  and  decay,  their  cycle  of 
development;  the  sequence  of  these  stages  being  necessaril}'  de- 
veloped wherever  the  spirit  of  art  has  arisen,  and  has  had  growth 
and  progress.  The  first  and  most  important  step  in  examining  a 
work  of  ancient  sculpture  is  to  distinguish  with  certainty  whether 
it  is  of  Egyptian,  Etruscan,  Greek,  or  Roman  workmanship;  and 
this  distinction  rests  entirel}'  on  a  profound  knowledge  of  the 
style  peculiar  to  each  of  those  nations.  The  next  step  is,  from 
its  characteristic  features,  to  distinguish  what  period,  epoch,  or 
stage  of  the  development  of  the  art  of  that  particular  nation  it 
belong-s  to.  We  shall  further  orive  the  various  attributes  and 
characteristics  of  the  gods,  goddesses,  and   other  mythological 

667 


668  FINE    ARTS. 

personages  which  distinguish  the  various  statues  visible  in  Egyp- 
tian, Etruscan,  Greek,  and  Roman  sculpture. 

This  enumeration  will  be  found  of  use  in  the  many  sculpture 
cralleries  of  the  various  museums  both  at  home  and  abroad. 

Man  aitempfcd  sculpture  long  before  he  studied  architec- 
ture; a  simple  hut,  or  a  rude  house,  answered  every  purpose  as  a 
place  of  abode,  and  a  long  time  elapsed  before  he  sought  to 
inxent  what  was  not  demanded  by  necessity. 

Architecture  is  a  creation  of  the  mind;  it  has  no  model  in 
nature,  and  it  requires  great  imaginative  powers  to  conceive  its 
ideal  beauties,  to  make  a  proper  combination  of  parts,  and  to 
judge  of  the  harmony  of  forms  altogether  new  and  beyond  the 
reach  of  experience.  But  the  desire  in  man  to  imitate  and  to 
record  what  has  passed  before  his  eyes,  in  short,  to  transfer  the 
impression  from  his  own  mind  to  another,  is  natural  in  every 
stage  of  society;  and  however  imperfectly  he  may  succeed  in 
representing  the  objects  themselves,  his  attempts  to  indicate  their 
relative  position,  and  to  embody  the  expression  of  his  own  ideas, 
are  a  source  of  the  highest  satisfaction. 

As  the  wish  to  record  events  gave  the  first,  religion  gave  the 
second  impulse  to  sculpture.  The  simple  pillar  of  wood  or  stone, 
which  was  originally  chosen  to  represent  the  deity,  afterwards 
assumed  the  human  form,  the  noblest  image  of  the  power  that 
created  it ;  though  the  Her  nice  of  Greece  were  not,  as  some  have 
thought,  the  origin  of  statues,  but  were  borrowed  from  the 
mummy-shaped  gods  of  Egypt. 

Pausanias  thinks  that  "  all  statues  were  in  ancient  times  of 
wood,  particularly  those  made  in  Egypt;''  but  this  must  -  have 
been  at  a  period  so  remote  as  to  be  far  beyond  the  known  his- 
tory of  that  country;  though  it  is  probable  that  when  the  arts 
were  in  their  infancy  the  Eg3^ptians  were  confined  to  statues  of 
that  kind;  and  they  occasionally  erected  wooden  figures  in  their 
temples,  even  till  the  times  of  the  latter  Pharaohs. 


SCULPTURE  IN  GREECE  AND  EGYPT.  669 

Long  after  men  had  attempted  to  make  out  the  parts  of  the 
figure,  statues  continued  to  be  very  rude;  the  arms  were  placed 
directly  down  the  side  of  the  thighs,  and  the  legs  were  united 
together;  nor  did  they  pass  beyond  this  imperfect  state  in 
Greece,  until  the  age-  of  Daedalus.  Fortunately  for  themselves 
and  for  the  world,  the  Greeks  were  allowed  to  free  themselves 
from  old  habits,  while  the  Egyptians,  at  the  latest  periods,  con- 
tinued to  follow  the  imperfect  models  of  their  earh'  artists,  and 
were  forever  prevented  from  arriving  at  excellence  in  sculpture; 
and  though  they  made  great  progress  in  other  branches  of  art, 
though  they  evinced  considerable  taste  in  the  forms  of  their  vases, 
their  furniture,  and  even  in  some  architectural  details,  they  were 
forever  deficient  in  ideal  beauty,  and  in  the  mode  of  representing 
the  natural  positions  of  the  human  figure. 

In  Egypt  the  prescribed  automaton  character  of  the  figures 
effectuall}'  prevented  all  advancement  in  the  statuary's  art;  the 
limbs  being  straight,  without  any  attempt  at  action,  or,  indeed, 
any  indication  of  life;  they  were  really  statues  of  the  person 
they  represented,  not  the  person  '*•  living  in  marble,''  in  which 
they  differed  entirely  from  those  of  Greece.  No  statue  of  a 
warrior  was  sculptured  in  the  varied  attitudes  of  attack  and 
defence;  no  wrestler,  no  discobotiis^  no  pugilist  exhibited  the 
grace,  the  vigor,  or  the  muscular  action  of  a  man;  nor  were  the 
beauties,  the  feeling,  and  the  elegance  of  female  forms  displayed 
in  stone:  all  was  made  to  conform  to  the  same  invariable  model, 
which  confined  the  human  figure  to  a  few  conventional  postures. 

A  sitting  statue,  whether  of  a  man  or  woman,  was  repre- 
sented with  the  hands  placed  upon  the  knees,  or  held  across  tne 
breast;  a  kneeling  figure  sometimes  supported  a  small  shrine  or 
sacred  emblem;  and  when  standing  the  arms  were  placed  directly 
down  the  sides  of  the  thighs,  one  foot  (and  that  always  the  left) 
being  advanced  beyond  the  other,  as  if  in  the  attitude  of  walk- 
ing, but  without  any  attempt  to  separate  the  legs. 


670 


FINE    AKTS. 


The  oldest  Egyptian  sculptures  on  all  large  monuments  were 
in  low  relief,  and,  as  usual  at  every  period,  painted  (obelisks  and 
eN'ervthino'  carved  in  hard  stone,  some  funeral  tablets,  and  other 
small  objects,  being  in  intaglio);  and  this  style  continued  in 
voo-ue  until  the  time  of  Remeses  II.,  who  introduced  intaglio 
very  trenerallv  on  larcre  monuments;  and  even  his  battle  scenes 
at  Karnac  and  the  Memnonium  are  executed  in  this  manner. 
The  reliefs  were  little  raised  above  the  level  of  the  wall;  they 
had  generally  a  flat  surface  with  the  edges  softly  rounded  oft',  far 
surpassing  the  intaglio  in  eflect;  and  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  the 
best  epoch  of  art,  when  design  and  execution  were  in  their  zenith, 
should  have  abandoned  a  style  so  superior;  which,  too,  would 
have  improNcd  in  proportion  to  the  advancement   of  that  period. 

Aftjr  the  accession  of  the  twenty-sixth  dN'nasty  some  at- 
tempt was  made  to  reviv^e  the  arts,  which  had  been  long  neg- 
lected; and,  independent  of  the  patronage  of  government,  the 
wealth  of  private  individuals  was  liberally  employed  in  their 
encouragement.  Public  buildings  were  erected  in  many  parts 
of  Egypt,  and  beautified  with  rich  sculpture;  the  City  of  Sais, 
the  royal  residence  of  the  Pharaohs  of  that  d}'nasty,  was 
adorned  with  the  utmost  magnificence,  and  extensive  additions 
were  made  to  the  temples  of  Memphis,  and  even  to  those  of  the 
distant  Thebes. 

The  tresh  impulse  thus  given  to  art  was  not  without  efl:ect; 
the  sculptures  ot  that  period  exhibit  an  elegance  and  beauty 
which  might  even  induce  some  to  consider  them  equal  to  the 
productions  of  an  earlier  age,  and  in  the  tombs  of  the  Assaseef,- 
at  Thebes,  are  many  admirable  specimens  of  Egyptian  art.  To 
those,  however,  who  understand  the  true  feeling  of  this  peculiar 
school,  it  is  e\-ident,  that  though  in  minuteness  and  finish  they 
arc  deserving  of  the  highest  commendation,  3'et  in  grandeur  of 
conception  and  in  boldness  of  execution  they  fall  far  short  of  the 
sculptures  of  Sethos  and  the  second  Remeses. 


SCULPTURES    OF    ANCIENT    KINGS.  67 1 

The  skill  of  the  Egyptian  artists  in  drawing  bold  and  clear 
outlines  is,  perhaps,  more  worthy  of  admiration  than  an3thino- 
connected  with  this  branch  of  art,  and  in  no  place  is  the  freedom 
of  their  drawing  more  conspicuous  than  in  the  figures  in  the  un- 
finished part  of  Belzoni^s  tomb,  at  Thebes.  It  was  in  the  draw- 
ing alone  that  they  excelled,  being  totally  ignorant  of  the  correct 
mode  of  coloring  a  figure,  and  their  painting  was  not  an  imita- 
tion of  nature,  but  merely  the  harmonious  combination  of  certain 
hues,  which  they  well  understood.  Indeed,  to  this  day  the 
harmony  of  positive  colors  is  thoroughly  felt  in  Eg3pt  and  the 
East,  and  it  is  strange  to  find  the  little  perception  of  it  in 
Northern  Europe,  where  theories  take  upon  themselves  to  ex- 
plain to  the  mind  what  the  eve  has  not  vet  learned,  as  if  a  orram- 
mar  could  be  written  before  the  language  is   understood. 

A  remarkable  feature  of  Egyptian  sculpture  is  the  frequent 
representation  of  their  Kings  in  a  colossal  form.  The  two  most 
famous  colossi  are  the  seated  figures  in  the  plain  of  Thebes. 
One  is  recognized  to  be  the  vocal  Memnon  (Amunoph  III.) 
mentioned  by  Strabo.  They  are  forty-seven  feet  high,  and 
measure  about  eighteen  feet  three  inches  across  the  shoulders. 
But  the  grandest  and  largest  colossal  statue  was  the  stupendous 
statue  of  King  Remeses  II.,  a  Syenite  granite,  in  the  Memno- 
nium,  at  Thebes.  It  represented  the  King  seated  on  a  throne, 
in  the  usual  attitude  of  Kings,  the  hands  resting  on  hits  knees. 
It  is  now  in  fragments.  It  measured  twenty-two  feet  four  inches 
across  the  shoulders.  According  to  Sir  G.  Wilkinson,  the  whole 
mass,  when  entire,  must  have  weighed  about  887  tons.  A 
colossal  statue  of  Remeses  II.  lies  with  his  face  upon  the  ground 
on  the  site  of  Memphis;  it  was  placed  before  the  temple  of 
Pthah.  Its  total  height  is  estimated  at  forty-two  feet  eight 
inches,  without  the  pedestal.  It  is  of  white  siliceous  limestone. 
Another  well-known  colossus  is  the  statue  of  the  so-called 
Memnon,  now  in  the  British  Museum.     It  is  supposed  to  be  the 


672 


FINE    ARTS. 


statue  of  Remeses  II.  It  was  brought  by  Belzoni  from  the 
Memnonium,  at  Thebes. 

In  the  different  epochs  of  Egyptian  sculpture,  the  Egyptian 
artists  were  bound  by  certain  fixed  canons  or  rules  of  proportion 
to  guide  thcni  in  their  labors,  and  which  they  were  obliged  to 
adhere  to  rigidlv.  The  following  are  the  canons  of  three  distinct 
epochs:  i.  The  canon  of  the  time  of  the  pyramids,  the  height 
was  reckoned  at  six  feet  from  the  sole  of  the  foot  to  the  crown 
of  the  head,  and  subdivisions  obtained  by  one-half  or  one-third 
of  a  foot.  2.  The  canon  from  the  twelfth  to  the  twenty-second 
dynasty  is  only  an  extension  of  the  first.  The  whole  figure  was 
contained  in  a  number  of  squares  of  half  a  foot,  and  the  whole 
height  divided  into  eighteen  parts.  In  these  two  canons  the 
height  above  the  sixth  foot  is  not  reckoned.  3,  The  canon  of 
the  age  of  Psammetici,  which  is  mentioned  by  Diodorus,  reckon- 
inof  the  entire  heisfht  at  twenty-one  and  one-fourth  feet  from  the 
sole  to  the  crown  of  the  head,  taken  to  the  upper  part.  The 
proportions  arc  different,  but  without  any  introduction  of  the 
Greek  canon.  The  canon  and  the  leading  lines  were  originally 
traced  in  red,  subsequently  corrected  by  the  principal  artist  in 
black,  and  the  design  then  executed.  In  Egypt,  almost  every 
object  of  sculpture  and  architecture  was  painted.  The  colossal 
Eg3'ptian  statues  are  generally  of  granite,  basalt,  porphyry,  or 
sandstone.  The  two  colossi  on  the  plain  of  Thebes  are,  of  course, 
hard  gritstone.  The  Egyptians  also  worked  in  dark  and  red 
granites,  breccias,  serpentines,  arragonite,  limestones,  jaspers, 
feldspar,  cornelian,  glass,  gold,  silver,  bronze,  lead,  iron,  the 
hard  woods,  fir  or  cedar,  sycamore,  ebony,  acacia,  porcelain  and 
ivory,  and  terra  cotta.  All  objects,  from  the  most  gigantic 
obelisk  t(^  the  minute  articles  of  private  life,  are  found  decorated 
with  hieroglyphics. 

Egyptian  sculptors  were  also  remarkable  for  the  correct  and 
excellent    representation  of  animals.      They    may,   indeed,     be 


ANIMAL    SCULPTURE.  673 

noticed  in  their  representation  a  freedom  of  hand,  a  choice  and 
variety  of  forms,  a  truthfulness,  and  even  what  deserves  to  be 
called  imitation,  which  contrast  with  the  uniformity,  the  rigidity, 
the  absence  of  nature  and  life,  which  human  figures  present. 
Plato  mentions  a  law  which  forbade  the  artists  to  depart,  in  the 
slightest  degree,  in  the  execution  of  statues  of  the  human  form 
from  the  type  consecrated  by  priestly  authority.  The  artist, 
therefore,  not  being  restricted  in  his  study  of  the  animal  form, 
could  thus  give  to  his  image  greater  variety  of  motion,  and  by 
imitating  animals  in  nature,  indemnify  himself  for  the  constraint 
he  experienced  when  he  represented  Kings  and  priests.  The 
two  colossal  lions  in  red  granite,  brought  to  England  by  the 
late  Duke  of  Northumberland,  may  be  considered  as  remarkably 
good  specimens  of  Egyptian  art,  as  applied  to  the  delineation  of 
animal  forms.  They  evince  a  considerable  knowledge  of  anatomy 
in  the  strongly-marked  delineation  of  the  muscular  development. 
The  form  also  is  natural  and  easy,  thus  admirably  expressing 
the  idea  of  strength  in  a  state  of  repose.  They  were  sculptured 
in  the  reign  of  Amunoph  III.  The  representations  of  the  sacred 
animals,  the  cynocephalus,  the  lion,  the  jackal,  the  ram,  etc., 
are  frequently  to  be  met  with  in  Egyptian  sculpture. 

Greek. — The  stages  of  the  cycle  of  development  of  the  art 

of  sculpture  in  Greece  may  be  given  in  five  distinct  periods  or 

epochs,  naming  these,  for  greater  convenience,  chiefly  from  the 

name  of  the  principal  artist  whose  style  prevailed  at  that  period; 

I.  The  Dsedalean,  or  early      .       .     (       — 580  B.  C.) 

II.  The  yEginetan,  or  archaic         .     (580 — 480  B.  C.) 

III.  The  Phidian,  or  the  grand        .     (480 — 400  B.  C.) 

IV.  The  Praxitelean,  or  the  beautiful  (400 — 250  B.  C.) 
V.  The  Decline (250 —  ) 

Prior  to  the  age  of  Daedalus,  there  was  an  earlier  stage  in 
the  development  of  art,  in  which  the  want  of  art,  which  is  pecu- 
liar to  that   early  stage,  was  exhibited   in   rude   attempts  at  the 

43 


674 


FINE    ARTS. 


representation  of  the  human  figure,  for  similar  and  almost  iden- 
tical rude  representations  are  attempted  in  the  early  stages  of 
art  in  all  countries;  as  the  eaiiy  attempts  of  children  are  nearly 
identical  in  all  ages.  The  presence  of  a  god  was  indicated  in  a 
manner  akin  to  the  Fetichism  of  the  African,  by  the  simplest 
and  most  shapeless  objects,  such  as  unhewn  blocks  of  stone  and 
by  simple  pillars  or  pieces  of  wood.  The  first  attempt  at  repre- 
sentation consisted  in  fashioning  a  block  of  stone  or  wood  into 
some  semblance  of  the  human  form,  and  this  rude  attempt  con- 
stituted a  divinity.  Of  this  primitive  form  was  the  Venus  of 
Cyprus,  the  Cupid  of  Thespiae;  the  Juno  of  Argos  was  fashioned 
in  a  similar  rude  manner  from  the  trunk  of  a  wild  pear  tree. 
These  attempts  were  thus  nothing  more  than  shapeless  blocks, 
the  head,  arms,  and  legs  scarcely  defined.  Some  of  these 
wooden  blocks  are  supposed  to  have  been,  in  a  coarse  attempt 
at  imitation,  furnished  with  real  hair,  and  to  have  been  clothed 
with  real  draperies  in  order  to  conceal  the  imperfection  of  the 
form.  The  next  step  was  to  give  these  shapeless  blocks  a 
human  form.  The  upper  part  assumed  the  likeness  of  a  head, 
and  by  degrees  arms  and  legs  were  marked  out;  but  in  these 
early  imitations  of  the  human  figure  the  arms  were,  doubtless, 
represented  closely  attached  to  the  sides;  and  the  legs,  though  to 
a  certain  extent  defined,  were  still  connected  and  united  in  a 
common  pillar. 

The  age  of  Daedalus  marks  an  improvement  in  the  model- 
ing of  the  human  figure,  and  in  giving  it  life  and  action.  This 
improvement  in  the  art  consisted  in  representing  the  human  fig- 
ure with  the  arms  isolated  from  the  body,  the  legf  detached,  and 
the  eyes  open;  in  fine,  giving  it  an  appearance  of  nature  as  well 
as  of  life,  and  thus  introducing  a  principle  of  imitation.  This  im- 
portant progress  in  the  practice  of  the  art  is  the  characteristic 
feature  of  the  school  of  Daedalus,  for  under  the  name  of  Daedalus 
we  must  understand  the  art   of  sculpture   itself  in   its   primitive 


MODELING    OF    THE    HUMAN    FIGURE.  675 

form,  and  in  its  first  stage  of  development.  According  to  Flax- 
man,  the  rude  efforts  of  this  age  were  intended  to  represent 
divinities  and  heroes  only — Jupiter,  Neptune,  Hercules,  and  sev- 
eral heroic  characters,  had  the  selfsame  face,  figure,  and  action; 
the  same  narrow  eyes,  thin  lips,  with  the  corners  of  the  mouth 
turned  upwards;  the  pointed  chin,  narrow  loins,  turgid  muscles; 
the  same  advancing  position  of  the  lower  limbs;  the  right  hand 
raised  beside  the  head,  and  the  left  extended.  Their  only  dis- 
tinctions were  that  Jupiter  held  the  thunderbolt,  Neptune  the 
trident,  and  Hercules  a  palm  branch  or  bow.  The  female  divin- 
ities were  clothed  in  draperies  divided  into  few  and  perpendicular 
folds,  their  attitudes  advancing  like  those  of  the  male  figures. 
The  hair  of  both  male  and  female  statues  of  this  period  is 
arranged  with  great  care,  collected  in  a  club  behind,  sometimes 
entirely  curled. 

Between  the  rudeness  of  the  Dsedalean  and  the  hard  and 
severe  style  of  the  ^ginetan  there  was  a  transitional  style,  to 
which  period  the  artists  Dipoenus  and  Scyllis  are  assigned  by 
Pliny.  The  metopes  of  the  temple  of  Selinus  in  Sicily,  the  bas- 
reliefs'  representing  Agamemnon,  Epeus,  and  Talthybius,  in  the 
Louvre,  the  Harpy  monument  in  the  British  Museum,  and  the 
Apollo  of  Tenea,  afford  examples  of  this  style. 

./^f^inetan. — In  the  ^Eginetan  period  of  sculpture  there  was 
still  retained  in  the  character  of  the  heads,  in  the  details  of  the 
costume,  and  in  the  manner  in  which  the  beard  and  the  hair  are 
treated,  something  archaic  and  conventional,  undoubtedly  de- 
rived from  the  iiabits  and  teachings  of  the  primitive  school. 
But  there  prevails  at  the  same  time,  in  the  execution  of  the 
human  form,  and  the  manner  in  which  the  nude  is  treated,  a 
knowledge  of  anatomy,  and  an  excellence  of  imitation  carried  to 
so  high  a  degree  of  truth  as  to  give  convincing  proofs  of  an  ad- 
vanced step  and  higher  stage  in  the  development  of  the  art. 
The  following  are  the  principal  characteristics  of  the  -^ginetan 


676 


FINE    ARTS. 


Style,  as  derived  from  a  earefiil  examination  of  the  statues  found 
in  ^gina,  whicli  were  the  undoubted  productions  of  the  school 
of  the  .Eginetan  period.  The  style  in  which  they  are  executed 
is  called  Hieratic,  or  Archaic. 

The  heads,  either  totalh"  destitute  of  expression,  or  all  re- 
duced to  a  general  and  conventional  expression,  present,  in  the 
oblique  position  of  the  eyes  and  mouth,  that  forced  smile  which 
seems  to  have  been  the  characteristic  feature  common  to  all  pro- 
ductions of  this  archaic  style;  for  w^e  find  it  also  on  the  most 
ancient  medals,  and  on  bas-reliefs  of  the  primitive  period. 

The  hair,  treated  likewise  in  a  systematic  manner  in  small 
curls  or  plaits,  worked  with  wonderful  industry,  imitates  not 
real  hair,  but  genuine  wigs,  a  peculiarity  which  may  be  remarked 
on  other  works  in  the  ancient  style,  and  of  Etruscan  origin. 
The  beard  is  indicated  on  the  cheek  by  a  deep  mark,  and  is 
rarely  worked  in  relief,  but,  in  the  latter  case,  so  as  to  imitate  a 
false  beard,  and  consequently  in  the  same  system  as  the  hair. 
The  costume  partakes  of  the  same  conventional  and  hieratic 
taste;  it  consists  of  drapery,  with  straight  and  regular  folds, 
falling  in  symmetrical  and  parallel  masses,  so  as  to  imitate  the 
real  draperies  in  which  the  ancient  statues  in  wood  were  draped. 
These  conventional  forms  of  the  drapery  and  hair  may,  there- 
fore, be  considered  as  deriving  their  origin  from  an  imitation  of 
the  early  statues  in  wood,  the  first  objects  of  worship  and  of  art 
among  the  Greeks,  which  were  frequently  covered  with  false 
hair,  and  clothed  with  real  draperies.  The  muscular  develop- 
ment observable  in  these  figures  is  somewhat  exaggerated,  but, 
considering  the  period,  is  wonderfully  accurate  and  true  tO' 
nature.  The  genius  for  imitation  exhibited  in  this  style,  carried 
as  far  as  it  is  possible  in  the  expression  of  the  forms  of  the  body,, 
although  still  accompanied  by  a  little  meagreness  and  dryness, 
the  truth  of  detail,  the  exquisite  care  in  the  execution,  evince  so 
profound  a  knowledge  of  the   structure  of  the   human   bod}',  so 


"the  sculptor  of  the  gods."  677 

great  a  readiness  of  hand — in  a  word,  an  imitation  of  nature  so 
sl<;illful,  and,  at  the  same  time,  so  simple,  that  one  can  not  but 
recognize  in  them  the  productions  of  an  art  which  had  arrived 
at  a  point  whicli  required  only  a  few  steps  more  to  reach  perfec- 
tion. To  the  latter  part  of  this  period  belong  the  sculptors 
Canachus,  Calamis,  and  Pythagoras.  Canachus  was  the  sculp- 
tor of  a  famous  statue  of  a  nude  Apollo  in  bronze,  termed 
Philesius,  at  Didymi,  near  Miletus,  and  was  considered  as  very 
hard  in  his  style. 

Phidiau. — "  This  period  (we  here  adopt  Mr.  Vaux's  words) 
is  the  golden  age  of  Greek  art.  During  this  period  arose  a 
spirit  of  sculpture  which  combined  grace  and  majesty  in  the  hap- 
piest manner,  and  by  emancipating  the  plastic  art  from  the  fetters 
of  antique  stiffness,  attained,  under  the  direction  of  Pericles,  and 
by  the  hand  of  Phidias,  its  culminating  point.  It  is  curious  to 
remark  the  gradual  progress  of  the  arts;  for  it  is  clear  that  it 
was  slowly  and  not  -per  saltum  that  the  gravity  of  the  elder 
school  was  changed  to  the  perfect  style  of  the  age  of  Phidias." 
\\\  this  phase  of  the  art,  the  ideal  had  reached  its  zenith,  and  we 
behold  a  beauty  and  perfection  which  has  never  been  equaled. 
In  this  age  alone  sculpture,  by  the  grandeur  and  sublimity  it  had 
attained  to  in  its  style,  was  qualined  to  give  a  form  to  the  sub- 
lime conceptions  of  the  deity  evolved  by  the  mind  of  Phidias. 
He  alone  was  considered  able  to  embody  and  to  render  manifest 
to  the  eye  the  sublime  images  of  Homer.  Plence,  he  was  called 
"the  sculptor  of  the  gods."  It  is  well  known  that  in  the  concep- 
tion of  his  Jupiter  Olympus,  Phidias  wished  to  render  manifest, 
and  that  he  succeeded  in  realizing,  the  sublime  image  under 
which  Homer  represents  the  master  of  the  gods.  The  sculptor 
embodied  that  image  in  the  following  manner,  according  to  Pau- 
sanias:  "The  god,  made  of  ivory  and  gold,  is  seated  on  a  throne, 
his  head  crowned  with  a  branch  of  olive,  his  right  hand  presented 
a  Victory   of  ivory  and  gold,  with   a  crown  and   fillet;   his  left 


678  FINE    ARTS. 

hand  held  a  sceptre,  studded  with  all  kinds  of  metals,  on  which 
an  eagle  sat;  the  sandals  of  the  god  were  gold,  so  was  his 
draperv,  on  which  were  various  animals,  with  flowers  of  all  kinds, 
especially  lilies;  his  throne  was  richly  wrought  with  gold  and 
precious  stones.  There  were  also  statues;  four  Victories,  alight- 
ing, were  at  each  foot  of  the  throne;  those  in  front  rested  each 
on  a  sphinx  that  had  seized  a  Theban  youth;  below  the  sphinxes 
the  children  of  Niobe  were  slain  by  the  arrows  of  Apollo  and 
Artemis."  This  statue,  Flaxman  observes,  sixty  feet  in  height, 
was  the  most  renowned  work  of  ancient  sculpture,  not  for  stu- 
pendous magnitude  alone,  but  more  for  careful  majesty  and  sub- 
lime beauty.  His  Minerva  in  the  Parthenon  was  of  gold  and 
ivor\'.  The  goddess  was  represented  standing  robed  in  a  tunic, 
and  her  head  covered  with  the  formidable  aegis;  with  her  right 
hand  she  held  a  lance;  in  the  left  she  held  a  statue  of  Victory 
about  five  feet  high;  her  helmet  was  surmounted  b}'  a  sphinx 
and  two  griffins,  and  over  the  visor  eight  horses  in  front  in  full 
gallop.  The  shield  erected  at  the  feet  of  the  goddess  was 
adorned  on  both  sides  with  bas-reliefs.  At  the  base  of  the 
statue  were  a  sphinx  and  a  serpent.  This  colossus  was  thirty- 
seven  feet  high.  The  gem  of  Aspasus  and  the  silver  tetra- 
drachm  of  Athens  are  said  to  be  copies  of  the  head  of  this 
Minerva. 

Another  remarkable  statue  of  Phidias  was  the  Athene  Pro- 
machus,  in  the  Acropolis.  It  represented  the  tutelary  goddess  of 
the  Athenians,  fully  armed  and  in  the  attitude  of  battle,  with 
one  arm  raised  and  holding  a  spear  in  her  hand.  This  work 
was  of  colossal  dimensions,  and  stood  in  the  open  air,  nearly 
opposite  the  Propylaea.  It  towered  above  the  roof  of  the  Par- 
thenon, and  it  is  said  the  crest  of  the  helmet  and  the  point  of 
the  spear  could  be  seen  far  off  by  ships  approaching  Athens 
from  Sunium.  Its  height  is  supposed  to  have  been,  with  its 
pedestal,  about   seventy  feet;  the  material  was  bronze.     There 


GRANDEUR    OF    STYLE. 


079 


are  two  marble  statues  which  have  come  clown  to  us,  and  which 
give  some  idea  of  the  Minervas  of  Phidias.  One  is  the  Pallas 
of  Velletri,  which  is  supposed  to  be  a  copy  of  the  Minerva  Pro- 
machus  (cut  is  on  p.  530).  The  Farnese  Minerva,  at  Naples,  ma}' 
afford  some  idea  of  the  chryselephantine  statue  of  the  Parthenon. 
It  does  not,  however,  present  the  accessories  of  the  Athenian  tigure. 
The  Sphinx,  the  serpent  and  the  shield  arc  not  represented. 
The  sculptures  of  the  Parthenon,  now  in  the  British  Museum, 
can  lead  us  to  appreciate  the  manner  of  Phidias,  and  the  charac- 
ter of  his  school,  so  observed  by  Flaxman.  The  statues  of  the 
pediments,  the  metopes,  and  bas-reliefs,  are  remarkable  for  the 
grandeur  of  style,  simplicity,  truth,  beauty,  which  are  the 
characteristics  of  this  school.  On  the  eastern  pediment  was 
represented  the  birth  of  Minerva,  and  on  the  western  the  con- 
test between  Minerva  and  Neptune  for  the  guardianship  of  the 
soil  of  Attica.  Of  the  figures  still  preserved  to  us  of  the  east- 
ern pediment,  it  has  been  generally  supposed  that  the  reclining 
figure  may  be  identified  as  Theseus,  that  another  is  Ceres,  a  third 
Iris,  the  messenger,  about  to  announce  to  mortals  the  great 
event  of  the  birth  of  Minerv^a,  which  has  just  taken  place,  while 
the  group  of  three  female  figures  are  considered  to  represent  the 
three  Fates.  Of  the  western  pediment,  the  remaining  figures 
are  Cecrops,  the  first  King  and  founder  of  Athens,  and  Aglaura, 
his  wife,  and  the  river  god,  Ilissus,  or  Cephisus.  The  metopes, 
which  generally  represent  single  contests  between  the  Athenians 
and  the  Centaurs,  are  in  strong  high  relief,  full  of  bold  action  and 
passionate  exertion— though  this  is  for  the  most  part  softened 
by  great  beauty  of  form  and  a  masterly  style  of  composition 
which  knows  how  to  adapt  itself  with  the  utmost  freedom  to  the 
strict  conditions  of  the  space.  These  reliefs  were  placed  high, 
as  they  were  calculated  for  the  full  light  of  the  sun,'«and  to  throw 
deeper  shadows. 

The  frieze  may  be  considered  as  the  chief  glor}^  of  the  art 


68o  FINE    ARTS. 

of  Phidias.  The  artists  here  expressed  with  the  utmost  beauty 
the  signification  of  the  temple  by  depicting  a  festive  procession, 
which  was  celebrated  every  tilth  year  at  Athens,  in  honor  of 
Minerva,  conveying  in  solemn  pomp  to  the  temple  of  the  Par- 
thenon the  peplos,  or  sacred  veil,  which  was  to  be  suspended 
before  the  statue  of  the  goddess.  The  end  of  the  procession  has 
just  reached  the  temple,  the  archons  and  heralds  await,  quietly 
conversing  together,  the  end  of  the  ceremony.  They  are  fol- 
lowed by  a  train  of  Athenian  maidens,  singly  or  in  groups,  many 
of  them  with  cans  and  other  vessels  in  their  hands.  Then  fol- 
low men  and  women,  then  bearers  of  sacrificial  gifts,  then  flute- 
players  and  musicians,  followed  b}'  combatants  in  chariots,  with 
four  splendid  horses.  The  whole  is  concluded  by  prancing 
horsemen,  the  prime  of  the  manly  youth  of  Athens.  This  frieze 
was  within  the  colonnade  of  the  Parthenon,  on  the  upper  part 
of  the  wall  of  the  cella,  and  was  continued  round  the  building. 
By  its  position  it  onl}'  obtained  a  secondary  light.  Being  placed 
immediately  below  the  soflit,  it  received  all  its  light  from  between 
the  columns,  and  by  reflection  from  the  pavement  below.  Mr. 
Westmacott  remarks  that  these  works  are  unquestionably  the 
finest  specimens  of  the  art  that  exist,  and  they  illustrate  fully 
and  admirably  the  progress  and,  as  it  may  be  said,  the  consum- 
mation of  sculpture.  The}'  exhibit  in  a  remarkable  degree  all 
the  qualities  that  constitute  fine  art — truth,  beauty,  and  perfect 
execution.  In  the  forms,  the  most  perfect,  the  most  appropriate 
and  the  most  graceful  have  been  selected.  All  that  is  coarse  or 
vulgar  is  omitted,  and  that  only  is  represented  which  unites  the 
two  essential  qualities  of  truth  and  beauty.  The  result  of  this 
happy  combination  is  what  has  been  termed  ideal  beaut}'.  These 
sculptures,  however,  which  emanated  from  the  mind  of  Phidias, 
and  were  most  certainly  executed  under  his  eyes,  and  in  his 
school,  are  not  the  works  of  his  hands.  Phidias  himself  dis- 
dained  or  worked   but  little  in   marble.     They  were,  doubtless, 


STATUES.  681 

the  works  of  his  pupils,  Alcamenes,  Agoracritus,  Colotes,  Paeo- 
nios,  and  some  other  artists  of  his  time.  For,  as  Flaxman  re- 
marks, the  styles  of  different  hands  are  sufficiently  evident  in  the 
alto  and  basso  rilievo.  To  the  age  of  Phidias  belong  the  sculp- 
tors Alcamenes,  Agoracritus,  and  Pseonios.  The  greatest  work 
of  Alcamenes  was  a  statue  of  Venus  in  the  Gardens,  a  work 
to  which  it  is  said  Phidias  himself  put  the  finishing  touch.  He 
also  executed  a  bronze  statue  of  a  conqueror  in  the  games,  which 
Pliny  says  was  known  as  the  "  Encrinomenos,  the  highly  ap- 
proved.'' Agoracritus,  who,  Pliny  says,  was  such  a  favorite  of 
Phidias  that  he  gave  his  own  name  to  many  of  that  artist's 
works,  entered  into  a  contest  with  Alcamenes,  the  subject  being 
a  statue  of  Venus.  Alcamer.cs  was  successful,  Pliny  tells  us, 
not  that  his  work  was  superior,  '^ut  because  his  fellow-citizens 
chose  to  give  their  suffrages  in  his  favor,  in  preference  to  a 
stranger.  It  was  for  this  reason  that  Agoracritus,  indignant  at 
his  treatment,  sold  his  statue  on  the  express  condition  that  it 
should  never  be  taken  to  Athens,  and  changed  its  name  to 
Nemesis.     It  was  accordingl}^  erected  at  Rhamnus. 

A  marble  statue  of  Victory,  a  beautiful  Nike  in  excellent 
preservation,  has  been  lately  discovered  at  Olympia,  bearing  the 
name  of  Paeonios.  This  statue  is  mentioned  by  Pausanius  as  a 
votive  offering  set  up  by  the  Messenians  in  the  Altis,  the  sacred 
grove  of  Zeus  at  Olympia.  The  statues  in  -the  eastern  pediment 
of  the  temple  of  Jupiter  at  Olympia  were  by  Paeonios,  and  those 
in  the  western  by  Alcamenes.  The  first  represented  the  eques- 
trian contest  of  Pelops  against  Oenomaus,  and  in  the  second  the 
Lapithae  were  represented  fighting  with  the  centaurs  at  the  mar- 
riage of  Pirithous. 

The  frieze  of  the  temple  of  Apollo  at  Bassae,  near  Phigaleia, 
in  Arcadia,  belongs  to  this  period.  It  was  the  work  of  Ictinus, 
the  architect  of  the  Parthenon.  Contests  with  the  Amazons  and 
battles  with  the  centaurs  form   the  subject  of  the  whole.     The 


682  FINE    ARTS. 

most  animated  and  boldest  compositions  are  sculptured  in  these 
reliefs.  They  exhibit,  however,  exaggeration,  and  are  wanting 
in  that  repose  and  beauty  which  are  the  characteristics  of  the 
works  of  Phidias. 

In  the  half  draped  Venus  of  Milo  now  in  the  Louvre,  we 
have  a  genuine  Greek  work,  which  represents  an  intermediate 
style  between  that  of  Phidias  and  Praxiteles.  "  Grandly  seri- 
ous," Professor  Lubke  writes,  "  and  almost  severe,  stands  the 
goddess  of  Love,  not  yet  conceived  as  in  later  representations, 
as  a  love  requiring  woman.  The  simple  drapery,  resting  on  the 
hips,  displays  uncovered  the  grand  forms  of  the  upper  part  of  the 
body,  which,  with  all  her  beaut}^  have  that  mysteriousl}-  unap- 
proachable feeling  which  is  the  genuine  expression  of  the  divine.'" 

Praxitilean. — This  period  is  characterized  by  a  more  rich 
and  flowing  style  of  execution,  as  well  as  by  the  choice  of  softer 
and  more  delicate  subjects  than  had  usually  been  selected  for 
representation.  In  this  the  beautiful  was  sought  after  rather 
than  the  sublime.  Praxiteles  may  be  considered  the  first  sculp- 
tor who  introduced  this  more  sensual,  if  it  may  be  so  called, 
style  of  art,  for  he  was  the  first  who,  in  the  unrobed  Venus, 
combined  the  utmost  luxuriance  of  personal  charms  with  a  spir- 
itual expression  in  which  the  queen  of  love  herself  appeared  as  a 
woman  needful  of  love,  and  filled  with  inward  longing.  Pie  first 
gave  a  prominence  to  corporeal  attractions,  with  which  the  deity 
was  invested.  His  favorite  subjects  were  of  youthful  and  femi- 
nine beauty.  In  his  Venus  of  Cnidos  he  exhibited  the  goddess 
in  the  most  exquisite  form  of  woman.  His  Cupid  represented 
the  beauty  and  grace  of  that  age  in  boys  which  seemed  to  the 
Greeks  the  most  attractive.  His  Apollo  Sauroctonos  presented 
the  form  of  a  3'outh  of  exquisite  beaut}'  and  proportion.  The 
Venus  of  Cnidos  stands  foremost  as  one  of  the  celebrated  art 
creations  of  antiquity.  This  artist  represented  the  goddess  com- 
pletely undraped;  but  this  bold  innovation  was  justified  by  the 


STATUES.  683 

fact  that  she  was  taking  up  her  garment  with  her  left  hand,  as  if 
she  were  just  coming  from  her  bath,  while  with  her  right  she 
modestly  covered  her  figure.  Many  as  are  the  subsequent  copies 
preserved  of  this  famous  statue,  we  can  only  conceive  the  out- 
ward idea  of  the  attitude,  but  none  of  the  pure  grandeur  of  the 
work  of  Praxiteles.  In  the  Vatican  (Chiaramonte  gallery,  No. 
112)  there  is  one  of  very  inferior  execution,  but  perhaps  the  only 
one  which  gives  a  correct  idea  of  this  Venus,  as  it  corresponds 
as  nearly  as  possible  with  the  pose  of  the  statue  on  the  coin  of 
Cnidos  and  with  the  description  of  Lucan. 

His  Cupid  is  represented  as  a  slender,  undeveloped  boy,  full 
of  liveliness  and  activity,  earnestly  endeavoring  to  fasten  the 
strings  to  his  bow.  A  Roman  copy  of  this  statue  is  in  the 
British  Museum. 

He  also  executed  in  bronze  a  Faun,  which  was  known  as 
"  Periboetos,  the  much  famed;"  the  finest  of  the  many  copies  of 
this  celebrated  statue  that  have  come  down  to  us,  is  in  the  Capi- 
tol ;  and  a  youthful  Apollo,  styled  Sauroctonos,  because  he  is 
aiming  an  arrow  at  a  lizard  which  is  stealing  towards  him;  a  copy 
of  this  statue  in  marble  is  in  the  Vatican,  and  one  in  bronze  in 
the  Villa  Albani. 

Contemporary  with  Praxiteles  was  Scopas.  His  works  ex- 
hibit powerful  expression,  grandeur,  combined  with  beauty  and 
grace.  The  group  of  Niobe  and  her  children,  at  Florence,  has 
been  attributed  to  him.  Another  very  celebrated  work  of 
Scopas  was  the  statue  of  the  Pythian  Apollo  playing  on  the  lyre, 
which  Augustus  placed  in  the  temple  which  he  built  to  Apollo, 
on  the  Palatine,  in  thanksgiving  for  his  victor}^  at  Actium.  An 
inferior  Roman  copy  of  this  statue  is  in  the  Vatican.  He  was 
also  celebrated  for  his  heads  of  Apollo.  Of  these  many  ex- 
cellent copies  are  still  extant,  the  finest  being  that  formerly  in  the 
Giustiniani  collection,  and  now  in  the  British  Museum. 

The  late  discoveries  at  Halicarnassus  have  yielded  genuine 


b54 


FINE    ARTS. 


works  of  Scopas  in  the  sculptures  of  the  bas-reliefs  of  Mauso- 
leum, erected  by  Artemisia  in  memory  of  her  husband,  Mausolus, 
King  of  Caria,  the  east  side  of  which  is  known  to  have  pro- 
ceeded from  his  hands;  the  other  sides  by  his  contemporaries, 
Br}axis,  Timotheus  and  Leochares.  Parts  of  these  are  now  in 
the  British  Museum. 

The  bas-reliefs  of  the  temple  of  Nike  Apteros  have  been  as- 
sociated with  the  peculiarities  which  characterize  the  productions 
of  Scopas.  A  figure  of  Victory,  stooping  to  loose  her  sandal,  in 
bas-relief  from  this  temple,  is  remarkable  for  its  admirably  ar- 
ranged drapery. 

The  sculptural  decorations  of  the  temple  of  Artemis,  at 
Ephesus,  the  foundations  of  which  have  been  lately  discovered 
by  Mr.  Wood,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  were  contributed 
bv  Praxiteles  and  Scopas.  The  drum  of  a  column,  with  figures 
in  bas-relief  from  this  temple,  has  been  lately  added  to  the  Brit- 
ish Museum. 

The  beautiful  figure  of  a  Bacchante  in  bas-relief  in  the 
British  Museum  is  generally  referred  to  Scopas. 

The  following  are  some  of  the  more  particular  character- 
istics of  the  human  form,  adopted  by  the  Grecian  sculptors  of 
this  age: 

In  the  profile,  the  forehead  and  lips  touch  a  perpendicular 
line  drawn  between  them.  In  }'oung  persons,  the  brow  and  nose 
nearly  form  a  straight  line,  which  gives  an  expression  of  gran- 
deur and  delicacy  to  the  face.  The  forehead  was  low,  the  eyes 
large,  but  not  prominent.  A  depth  was  given  to  the  eye  to  give 
to  the  eyebrow  a  finer  arch,  and,  by  a  deeper  shadow,  a  bolder 
relief.  To  the  eyes  a  living  play  of  light  was  communicated  by 
a  sharp  projection  of  the  upper  eyelid,  and  a  deep  depression  of 
the  pupil.  The  eye  was  so  difierently  shaped  in  the  heads  of 
divinities  and  ideal  heads  that  it  is  itself  a  characteristic  by 
which  they  can  be  distinguished.     In  Jupiter,  Apollo,  and  Juno 


DESCRIPTION    OF    STATUES.  685 

the  opening  of  the  eye  is  large,  and  roundly  arched;  it  has  also 
less  length  than  usual,  that  the  curve  which  it  makes  may  be 
more  spherical.  Pallas  likewise  has  large  eyes,  but  the  upper 
lid  falls  over  them  more  than  in  the  three  divinities  just  men- 
tioned, for  the  purpose  of  giving  her  a  modest  maiden  look. 
Small  e3'es  were  reserved  for  Venuses  and  voluptuous  beauties, 
which  gave  them  a  languishing  air.  The  upper  lip  was  short. 
the  lower  lip  fuller  than  the  upper,  as  this  tended  to  give  a 
roundness  to  the  chin;  the  short  upper  lip,  and  the  round  and 
grandly-formed  chin,  being  the  most  essential  signs  of  genuine 
Greek  formation.  The  lips  were  generally  closed;  they  slightly 
open  in  the  statues  of  the  gods,  especially  in  the  case  of  Venus, 
but  the  teeth  were  never  seen.  The  ear  was  carefully  modeled 
and  finished.  The  beauty,  and  especially  the  execution  of  them, 
is,  according  to  Winkelman,  the  surest  sign  by  which  to  discrim- 
inate the  antique  from  additions  and  restorations.  The  hair  was 
curl}',  abundant,  and  disposed  in  floating  locks,  and  executed 
with  the  utmost  imaginable  care;  in  females  it  was  tied  in  a 
knot  behind  the  head.  The  frontal  hair  was  represented  as 
growing  in  a  curve  over  the  temples,  in  order  to  give  the  face  an 
oval  shape.  The  face  was  always  oval,  and  a  cross  drawn  in  the 
oval  indicated  the  design  of  the  face.  The  perpendicular  line 
marked  the  position  of  the  brow,  the  nose,  the  mouth,  and  the 
chin;  the  horizontal  line  passed  through  the  eyes,  and  was  par- 
allel to  the  mouth.  The  hands  of  youth  were  beautifully 
rounded,  and  the  dimples  given;  the  fingers  were  tapered,  but 
the  articulations  were  not  generally  indicated.  In  the  male 
form  the  chest  was  high,  arched,  and  prominent.  In  the  female 
form,  especially  in  that  of  goddesses  and  virgins,  the  form  of 
the  breasts  is  virginal  in  the  extreme,  since  their  beauty  was 
generally  made  to  consist  in  the  moderateness  of  their  size. 
They  were  generally  a  little  higher  than  nature.  The  abdo- 
men was  without  prominence.      The  legs  and  knees   of  youth- 


686  FINE    ARTS. 

till  fiofures  are  rounded  with  softness  and  smoothness,  and  un- 
marked  by  muscular  movements.  The  proportion  of  the  Hmbs 
was  longer  than  in  the  preceding  period.  In  male  and  female 
figures  the  foot  was  rounded  in  its  form;  in  the  female  the  toes 
are  delicate,  and  have  dimples  over  their  first  joints  gently 
marked. 

It  is  evident  that  this  t\pe  of  beauty  of  form,  adopted  by 
the  Grecian  sculptors,  is  in  unison  with,  and  exhibits  a  marked 
analogy  to  the  type  of  face  and  form  of  the  Greeks  themselves, 
for,  as  Sir  Charles  Bell  observes,  the  Greek  face  is  a  fine  oval, 
the  forehead  full  and  carried  ibrward,  the  eyes  large,  the  nose 
straight,  the  lips  and  chin  finely  formed ;  in  short,  the  forms  of 
the  head  and  face  have  been  the  type  of  the  antique,  and  of  all 
whicli  we  most  admire. 

The  sculptors  of  this  age,  instead  of  aiming  at  an  abstract, 
unattainable  ideal,  studied  nature  in  its  choicest  forms,  and  at- 
tained the  beautiful  by  selecting  and  concentrating  in  one  those 
charms  which  arc  found  diffused  over  all.  They  avoided  the 
representation  of  all  violent  motions  and  perturbations  of  the 
passions,  which  would  have  completely  marred  that  expression 
of  serene  repose  which  is  a  prominent  characteristic  of  the  beau- 
tiful period  of  Greek  sculpture.  Indeed,  the  chief  object  of  the 
Greek  sculptor  was  the  representation  of  the  beautiful  alone, 
and  to  this  principle  he  made  character,  expression,  costume,  and 
everything  else  subordinate. 

Lysippus,  the  successor  of  Praxiteles  and  Scopas,  was  a  con- 
temporary of  Alexander  the  Great.  He  contributed  to  advance 
their  style  by  the  peculiar  fullness,  roundness,  and  harmonious 
general  effect  by  which  it  appears  that  his  works  were  charac- 
terized. His  school  cxiiibited  a  strong  naturalistic  tendency,  a 
closer  imitation  of  nature,  leading  to  many  refinements  in  detail. 
It  was  unquestionably  greater  in  portrait  than  in  ideal  works. 
^*liny  thus  speaks  o!"  his  stN'le:     "  He  is  considered  to  have  con- 


WORK    OF    LYSIPPUS.  68^ 

tributed  very  greatly  to  the  art  of  the  statuary  by  expressing 
the  details  of  the  hair,  and  by  making  the  head  smaller  than 
had  been  done  by  the  ancients,  and  the  body  more  graceful  and 
less  bulky,  a  method  by  which  his  statues  were  made  to  appear 
taller." 

The  portrait  statues  of  Alexander  the  Great  by  Lysippus 
were  very  numerous.  The  great  King  would  only  allow  himself 
to  be  modeled  by  Lysippus.  The  head  of  Alexander,  as  the 
young  Ammon  on  the  coins  of  Lysimachus,  is  said  to  have  been 
designed  by  him.  An  athlete,  scraping  his  body  with  a  strigil, 
was  the  most  famous  of  the  bronze  statues  of  Lysippus.  The 
statue  of  an  athlete  in  the  Vatican,  in  a  similar  position,  is  sup- 
posed to  be  a  marble  copy  of  the  original  bronze  of  Lysippus; 
though  an  inferior  work,  it  illustrates  the  statements  of  Pliny 
regarding  the  proportions  adopted  by  Lysippus — a  small  head 
and  the  body  long  and  slim.  The  bas-reliefs  also  on  the  monu- 
ment of  Lysicrates,  representing  the  story  of  Dionysus  and  the 
Tyrrhenian  pirates,  presented  all  the  characteristic  features  of  the 
school  of  Lysippus.  It  was  erected  in  the  archonship  of  Eugene- 
tus,  B.  C.  335. 

The  canon  of  Polycletus  began  to  be  generally  adopted  at 
this  period.  It  was  followed  by  Lysippus,  who  called  the  Dory- 
phoros  of  that  artist  his  master.  In  his  practice  of  dealing  with 
the  heads  and  limbs  of  his  figures,  Lysippus  was  followed  by 
Silanion  and  Euphranor,  and  his  authority  may  be  said  to  have 
governed  the  school  of  Greece  to  a  late  period  of  the  art. 

Pliny  tells  us  that  Euphranor  was  the  hrst  who  represented 
heroes  with  becoming  dignity,  and  who  paid  particular  attention 
to  proportion.  Pie  made,  however,  in  the  generality  of  instances, 
the  bodies  somewhat  more  slender  and  the  heads  larger.  His 
most  celebrated  statue  was  a  Paris,  which  expressed  alike  the 
judge  of  the  goddesses,  the  lover  of  Helen,  and  the  slayer  of 
Achilles.  The  very  beautiful  sitting  figure  of  Paris,  in  marble, 
in  the  Vatican,  is,  no  doubt,  a  copy  of  this  work. 


688  FINE    ARTS. 

Subsequently  to  these  sculptors  we  have  Chares,  the  Rho- 
dian,  who  constructed  the  famous  colossus  of  Helios  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  harbor  of  Rhodes,  which  was  105  feet  high.  It 
appears  there  is  no  authority  for  the  common  statement  that  its 
less  extended  over  the  mouth  of  the  harbor. 

Of  the  later  Asiatic  or  Rhodian  schools  we  have  the  famous 
groups  of  the  Laocoon,  on  page  555,  and  of  Dirce  tied  to  a  bull, 
commonly  called  the  Toro  Farnese.  In  both  of  these  the  dra- 
matic element  is  predominant,  and  the  tragic  interest  is  not  ap- 
preciated. In  the  Laocoon  consummate  skill  is  shown  in  the 
mastery  of  execution;  but  if  the  object  of  the  artist  was  to 
create  pity  or  awe,  he  has  drawn  too  much  attention  to  his  power 
of  carving  marble.  The  Laocoon  was  executed,  according  to 
Pliny,  by  Agesander,  Polydorus  and  Athenodorus,  natives  of 
Rhodes.  This  group,  now  in  the  Vatican,  was  found  in  the 
baths  of  Titus.  From  the  evidence  of  an  antique  gem,  on 
which  is  engraved  a  representation  of  this  group,  we  find  the 
right  arm  of  the  Laocoon  has  been  wrongly  restored.  In  the 
gem  the  hand  of  Laocoon  is  in  contact  with  his  head,  and  not,  as 
restored  by  Giovanni  da  Montorsoli,  raised  high. 

The  Farnese  Bull,  a  work  in  which  we  possess  the  most 
colossal  group  of  antiquity,  was  executed  by  Apollonius  and 
Tauriscus,  of  Tralles.  To  the  same  school  belongs  the  Dying 
Gladiator,  who  unquestionably  represents,  as  usually  supposed,  a 
combatant  who  died  in  the  amphitheatre.  It  is  remarkable  for 
the  entire  absence  of  ideal  representation,  and  for  its  complete 
individuality  and  close  imita:ion  of  nature.  This  statue  is  prob- 
ably one  of  the  masterpieces  of  the  celebrated  Pyromachus, 
who  executed  several  groups,  and  large  compositions  of  ^\attle 
scenes  for  Attains,  King  of  Pergamus,  to  celebrate  his  decisive 
victory  over  the  Gauls  (B.  C.  240). 

To  the  later  Athenian  school  belong  probably  the  Belvidere 
Torso,  so  much  admired  by  Michael  Angelo,  the  Farnese   Her- 


THE    MACEDONIAN    AGE.  689 

cules,  the  Venus  de'  Medici,  and  the  Fighting  Gladiator.  The 
Belvidere  Torso  is  now  considered  to  be  a  copy  by  Apollonius, 
the  son  ol"  Nestor,  of  the  Hercules  of  Lysippus,  and  probably 
executed  in  the  Macedonian  period.  The  Farnese  Hercules  is 
so  exaggerated  in  its  style  as  to  have  been   deemed   a  work  as 


DYING   GLADIATOH. 


late  as  the  Roman  empire.  According  to  Flaxman,  the  Venus 
de' Medici  is  a  deteriorated  variety  or  repetition  of  a  Venus  of 
Praxiteles.  It  is  now  generally  admitted  that  it  is  a  work  of 
the  latest  Macedonian  period,  probably  by  Cleomenes,  whose 
name  appears  on  its  base.  The  Fighting  Gladiator  bears  the 
name  of  Agasias  of  Ephesus.  From  the  attitude  of  the  figure 
it  is  clear  that  the  statue  represents  not  a  gladiator,  but  a  war- 
rior contending  with  a  mounted  combatant,  probably  an  Athe- 
nian, warding  off  a  blow  from  a  centaur. 

The  Macedonian  age,  to  which  most  of  these  statues  be- 
longed, commenced  with  Alexander  the  Great,  and  terminated 
with  the  absorption  of  Greek  art  by  the  Romans. 

Art  having,  in  the  two  previous  periods,  reached  its  cul- 
minating point  of  perfection,  as  is  the  law  of  all  development, 
when  a  culminating  point  is  reached,  a  downward  tendency  and 
a  period  of  decline  begins,  for  the  cycle  of  development  must  be 

44 


690  FINE    ARTS. 

completed  and  the  stages  of  rise,  progress,  maturity,  decline  and 
decay  run  thi'ough. 

No  exact  date,  however,  can  be  assigned  to  the  beginning 
of  the  stage  of  decline;  no  sharp  line  of  demarcation  can  be 
pointed  out  dividing  one  stage  from  the  other.  The  decline  was 
so  gradual  that  there  was  an  inevitable  blending  of  the  two. 
We  perceive  evident  signs  of  decline  in  the  fourth  stage,  while, 
in  the  fifth,  or  stage  of  decline,  we  sometimes  meet  some  noble 
works  of  art  partaking  of  the  perfect  style  of  the  earlier  periods. 
A  period  of  decline  inevitably  and  invariably  follows  an  age  of 
maturity  and  perfection.  As  Mr.  Lecky  observes,  "  The  sculptor 
and  the  painter  of  the  age  of  Praxiteles  precipitated  art  into 
sensuality;  both  of  them  destroyed  its  religious  character,  both 
of  them  raised  it  to  high  aesthetic  perfection,  but  in  both  cases 
that  perfection  was  followed  by  a  speed}^  decline."  Muller  re- 
marks, "  The  creative  activity,  the  real  central  point  of  the  en- 
tire activity  of  art,  which  fashions  peculiar  forms  for  peculiar 
ideas,  must  have  flaofo-ed  in  its  exertions  when  the  natural  circle 
of  ideas  among  the  Greeks  had  received  complete  plastic  embodi- 
ment, or  it  must  have  been  morbidly  driven  to  abnormal  inven- 
tions. We  find,  therefore,  that  art,  during  this  period,  with 
greater  or  less  degrees  of  skill  in  execution,  delighted  now  in 
fantastical,  now  in  effeminate  productions,  calculated  merely  to 
charm  the  senses.  And  even  in  the  better  and  nobler  works  of 
the  time  there  was  still  on  the  whole  something — not,  indeed, 
very  striking  to  the  eye,  but  which  could  be  felt  by  the  natural 
sense,  something  which  distinguished  them  from  the  earlier 
works — the  striving  after  eff'ect.'^''  The  spirit  of  imitation 
marked  the  later  portion  of  this  period  of  decline.  The  sculp- 
tors of  this  age,  despairing  of  equaling  the  productions  of  the 
former  age,  gav^e  themselves  up  completely  to  servile  imitation. 
The  imitation  was  naturally  inferior  to  the  original,  and  each 
succeeding  attempt  at  imitation  was  but  a   step  lower  in  degra- 


ROMAN    ART.  69! 

dation  of  the  art.  When  they  ceased  to  study  nature  they 
thought  to  repair  the  deterioration  of  the  beauty  of  form  by  the 
tinish  of  the  parts,  and  in  a  still  later  period  they  gave,  instead 
of  a  grandeur  of  st3ie,  an  exaggeration  of  form.  Lastly,  being 
utterly  unable  to  cope  with  their  predecessors  in  the  sculpture 
of  statues,  they  had  recourse  to  the  manufacture  of  busts  and 
portraits,  which  they  executed  in  countless  numbers.  The  art 
reached  its  lowest  ebb,  and  thus  the  C3'cle  of  the  development  of 
Greek  sculpture  terminated  in  its  last  stage — utter  decay  and 
degradation. 

Roman. — In  the  very  early  periods  the  Romans  imitated  the 
Etruscans,  for,  generally  speaking,  all  the  works  of  the  first 
periods  of  Rome  were  executed  by  Etruscan  artists.  Their 
earliest  statues  of  gods  were  in  clay.  Etruscan  art  exercised 
the  greatest  influence  in  Rome,  for  Rome  was  adorned  with 
monuments  of  Etruscan  art,  in  its  very  infancy;  it  was  a  Tuscan 
called  Veturius  Mamurius  who  made  the  shields  (ancilia)  of  the 
temple  of  Numa,  and  who  made,  in  bronze,  the  statue  of  Vcr- 
tumna,  a  Tuscan  deity,  in  the  suburb  of  Rome.  The  Romans 
owed  all  their  culture  to  the  Etruscans,  from  whom  they  learned 
the  arts  of  architecture,  terra-cotta  work,  and  painting;  calling  in 
artists  of  that  more  tasteful  race  when  anything  of  that  sort  was 
required  for  the  decoration  of  their  simple  edifices.  The  most 
ancient  monuments  of  Rome  thus  corresponded  with  the  con- 
temporaneous st3ie  of  Etruscan  art;  there  is  thus  a  similarity  in 
the  figures;  the  attributes  alone  can  lead  one  to  distinguish  them, 
as  these  attributes  tell  if  the  statue  was  connected  with  the 
creed  or  modes  of  belief  of  Etruria  or  Rome.  There  was  not, 
therefore,  any  Roman  style,  properly  so  called;  the  only  distinc- 
tion to  be  remarked  is  that  the  statues  of  the  early  periods,  exe- 
cuted by  the  Romans,  are  characterized,  like  the  Romans  them- 
selves of  the  same  period,  by  a  beard  and  long  hair.  At  a  late 
period  all  the  architecture,  all  the  sculpture  of  the  public  edifices 


692  FINE    ARTS. 

at  Rome,  were  in  the  Tuscan  style,  according  to  the  testimony 
of  Pliny. 

After  the  second  Punic  war,  Greek  artists  took  the  place  of 
Etruscan  artists  at  Rome;  the  taking  of  Syracuse  gave  the 
Romans  a  knowledge  of  the  beautiful  works  of  Greece,  and  the 
treasures  of  art  brought  from  Corinth  chiefly  contributed  to 
awaken  a  taste  among  them,  and  they  soon  turned  into  ridicule 
their  ancient  statues  in  clay;  Greek  art  was  gradually  transferred 
to  Rome;  Greek  artists  began  to  abound  there,  and  the  history 
of  Roman  art  was  thenceforward  confounded  with  that  of  the 
vicissitudes  of  Greek  art.  The  style  of  the  works  of  sculpture 
under  the  first  Emperors  may  be  considered  as  a  continuation  and 
sequel  of  the  development  of  Greek  sculpture.  These  works, 
more  particularly  the  portrait  statues,  which  were  the  prevailing 
works  of  this  period,  exhibit  a  great  deal  of  force  and  character, 
though  a  want  of  care  is  visible  in  some  parts,  especially  in  the 
hair.  The  characters  of  the  heads  alwa3'S  bear  out  the  descrip- 
tions which  historians  have  given  of  the  person  they  belong  to, 
the  Roman  head  differing  essentially  from  the  Greek,  in  having 
a  more  arched  forehead,  a  nose  more  aquiline,  and  features  alto- 
gether of  a  more  decided  character.  It  may  be  observed,  how- 
ever, as  a  general  remark,  that  the  Roman  statues  are  of  a 
thicker  and  more  robust  form,  with  less  ease  and  grace,  more 
stern,  and  of  a  less  ideal  expression  than  Greek  statues,  though 
equally  made  by  Greek  artists.  Under  Augustus,  and  the  fol- 
lowing Roman  Emperors,  to  meet  the  demand  for  Greek  statues 
to  embellish  their  houses  and  villas,  several  copies  and  imitations 
of  celebrated  Greek  works  were  manufactured  by  the  sculptors 
of  the  age.  The  Apollo  Belvidere,  the  Venus  of  the  Capitol, 
and  several  copies  of  celebrated  Greek  works,  in  various 
Museums,  such  as  the  Faun,  Cupid,  Apollo  Sauroctonos,  and 
Venus  of  Praxiteles,  the  Discobolos  of  Myron,  and  several 
works  of  Scopas  and  Lysippus,  are  supposed  to  be   oi"  this  age. 


COPIES    OF    ANCIENT    GODS.  693 

Archaeologists  are  now  generally  agreed  in  thinking  that  the 
Apollo  Belvidere  is  only  a  copy  of  a  Roman  period  of  a  very 
fine  Greek  statue  of  about  the  beginning  of  the  third  century  B. 
C,  and  that  the  original  was  in  bronze.  Another  copy  has  been 
identified  in  a  bronze  statuette  now  in  St.  Petersburg,  known  as 
the  StroganofT  Apollo.  From  this  statuette  it  is  found  that  the 
Apollo  Belvidere  held  forward  in  his  left  hand,  not  a  bow  as  was 
thought,  but  the  cBp^is^  in  the  attitude  of  spreading  consternation 
among  an  enemy.  The  production  of  this  statue  is  generally 
assigned  to  the  period  after  the  invasion  of  the  Gauls,  whom,  in 
278  B.  C,  the  god  drove  in  alarm  from  his  sanctuary,  at  Delphi. 
{A  cut  of  Apollo  Belvidere  is  seen  on  page  495.) 

Of  the  Faun  of  Praxiteles  there  are  two  copies  in  the  Vati- 
can, but  both  are  inferior  to  that  in  the  Capitol.  A  copy  of  the 
Cupid  of  Praxiteles  is  in  the  British  Museum.  Of  the  Apollo 
Sauroctonos  there  are  two  copies,  one  in  the  Vatican,  and  an- 
other in  bronze  in  the  Villa  Albani.  Of  the  Venus  of  Cnidos  of 
Praxiteles  there  are  several  copies  in  the  Vatican;  one  in  partic- 
ular, in  the  Chiaramonte  Gallery,  No.  112,  though  very  inferior 
as  a  work  of  art,  gives  the  exact  pose  of  the  original  statue  as  it 
appears  on  the  coin  of  Cnidos.  The  Venus  of  the  Capitol  is  a 
Roman  version  of  the  Praxitelean  statue;  it  differs  in  attitude. 
Several  copies  of  the  Discobolos  of  Myron  are  still  in  existence: 
one  in  the  British  Museum,  one  in  the  Vatican,  and  a  third,  much 
finer  than  either  of  the  others,  in  the  possession  of  Prince  Mas- 
simo. A  very  fine  marble  copy  of  the  celebrated  bronze  of  Lysip- 
pus  is  in  the  Vatican.  A  copy  of  the  Pythian  Apollo  by  Scopas 
is  in  the  same  museum. 

The  noble  statue  of  Augustus,  discovered  in  1863,  and  now 
in  the  Vatican,  is  a  grand  example  of  the  portrait  statues  of  this 
period.  It  is  full  of  life  and  individuality.  The  pose  is  simple 
and  majestic,  as  befitting  the  portrait  of  an  Emperor.  The  bust 
of  the  young  Augustus  in  the  Vatican  for  depth  of  expression, 


694  FINE    ARTS. 

individuality,  truth   to  nature,  and  delicacy  of  finish  and  treat- 
ment, is  a  marvel  in  portraiture. 

Under  Tiberius  and  Claudius  a  limit  was  placed  to  the  right 
of  having  statues  exposed  in  public;  consequently  a  lesser  num- 
ber of  statues  were  made,  and  less  attention  was  paid  to  the  per- 
fection of  the  portrait.  However,  some  excellent  works  were 
produced  in  this  period.  The  style  became  purer  and  more 
refined  under  Hadrian,  for  a  partial  revival  of  Greek  art  is  at- 
tributed to  this  Emperor.  The  hair  was  carefully  worked,  the 
e3'ebrows  were  raised,  the  pupils  were  indicated  by  a  deep  cavity 
— an  essential  characteristic  of  this  age,  rare  before  this  period, 
and  frequently  introduced  afterwards;  the  heads  required  greater 
strength,  without,  however,  increasing  in  character.  Of  the 
most  remarkable  productions  of  the  age  of  Hadrian  are  the 
numerous  repetitions  of  the  statue  of  Antinous,  an  ideal  portrait 
of  Hadrian's  favorite,  exhibiting  much  artistic  perfection.  That 
in  the  Capitol  is  remarkable,  not  only  for  its  exceeding  beauty^ 
but  also  for  its  correct  anatomy.  Of  the  Emperor  Hadrian 
there  is  a  fine  portrait  statue  in  the  British  Museum.  Under  the 
Antonines,  the  decay  of  the  art  was  still  more  manifest,  display- 
ing a  want  of  simplicity,  and  an  attention  in  trivial  and  meretri- 
cious accessories.  Thus,  in  the  busts,  the  hair  and  the  beard 
luxuriate  in  an  exaggerated  profusion  of  curls,  the  careful  expres- 
sion of  features  of  the  countenance  being  at  the  same  time 
frequently  neglected.  This  age  was  remarkable  also  for  its 
recurrence  to  the  style  of  a  primitive  and  imperfect  art  in  the 
reproduction  of  Egyptian  statues. 


•^OgAIC. 


Mosaic,  opus  musivum,  is  a  kind  of  painting  made  with 
minute  pieces  of  colored  substances,  generally  either  marble  or 
natural  stones,  or  else  glass,  more  or  less  opaque,  and  of  every 
variety  of  hue  which  the  subject  may  require,  set  in  very  fine 
cement,  and  v^^hich  thus  form  pictures  of  different  kinds,  rival- 
ing in  color  and  hue  those  painted  by  the  brush. 

Early  nations  knew  the  art  of  mosaic,  and  it  is  supposed  to 
derive  its  origin  from  Asia,  where  paintings  of  this  kind  were 
composed,  in  imitation  of  the  beautiful  carpets  manufactured  at 
all  periods  in  those  countries.  The  Egyptians  employed  it  very 
probably  for  different  purposes;  no  traces  of  it  have,  however, 
been  found  in  the  temples  or  palaces  the  ruins  of  which  remain. 
There  is  in  the  Egyptian  collection  at  Turin  a  fragment  of  a 
mumm}'  case,  the  paintings  of  which  are  executed  in  mosaic 
with  wonderful  precision  and  truth.  The  material  is  enamel, 
the  colors  are  of  different  hues,  and  their  variety  renders  with 
perfect  truth  the  plumage  of  birds.  It  is  believed  to  be  the  only 
example  of  Egyptian  mosaic. 

The  Greeks  carried  the  art  of  mosaic  to  the  highest  perfec- 
tion, assuming  after  the  time  of  Alexander  an  importance  which 
entitled  it  to  be  ranked  as  an  independent  art.  Skillfull}-  manag- 
ing the  hues,  and  giving  to  the  figures  in  their  compositions  an 
exquisite  harmony,  they  resembled  at  a  slight  distance  real  paint- 
ings. Different  names  were  given  to  the  mosaics,  according  as 
they  were  executed  in  pieces  of  marble  of  a  certain  size;  it  was 
then  lithostroton^  opus  sectile;  or  in  small  cubes,  in  this  case  it 
was   called   opus  tessellatmn^  or  vermiculatum.     The  name  of 

695 


696 


FINE    ARTS. 


asaroton  was  given  to  a  mosaic  destined  to  adorn  the  pavement 
of  a  dining  hall.  It  was  supposed  to  represent  an  iinswept  hall, 
on  the  pavement  of  which  the  crumbs  and  remains  of  the  repast 
which  fell  from  the  table  still  remained.  It  was  said  to  be 
introduced  by  Sosus  of  Pergamus,  the  first  mosaic  artist  of  con- 
sequence of  whom  we  hear. 


MOSAIC    HA)OK 


Mosaic  was  used  to  adorn  the  pavements,  walls,  and  ceilings 
of  public  and  private  edifices.  The  Greeks  in  general  preferred 
marble  to  every  other  material.  A  bed  of  mortar  was  prepared, 
which  served  as  a  base,  which  was  covered  with  a  very  fine 
cement.  The  artist,  having  before  him  the  colored  design  which 
he  was  to  execute,  fixed  the  colored  cubes  in  the  cement,  and 
polished  the  entire  surface  when  it  had  hardened,  taking  care, 


MOSAIC    SUBJECTS. 


697 


however,  that  too  great  a  polish,  by  its  reflection,  might  not  mar 
the  general  efi:ect  of  his  work.  The  great  advantage  of  mosaic 
is  that  it  resists  humidity,  and  all  which  could  change  the  colors 
and  the  beauty  of  painting.  Painting  could  not  be  employed  in 
the  pavement  of  buildings,  and  mosaics  gave  them  an  appearance 
of  great  elegance.  The  mosaic  of  the  Capitol,  found  in  Ha- 
drian's Villa,    may    give    an   idea    of    the   perfection    which    the 


MOSAIC   DOVES. 


Greeks  attained  to  in  that  art.  It  represents  a  vase  full  of  water, 
on  the  sides  of  which  are  four  doves,  one  of  which  is  in  the  act 
of  drinking.  It  is  supposed  by  some  to  be  the  mosaic  of  Perga- 
mus  mentioned  by  Pliny.  It  is  entirely  composed  of  cubes  of 
marble,  without  any  admixture  of  colored  glass.  Mosaic  of  this 
kind  may  be  considered  as  the  most  ancient;  it  was  only  by 
degrees  that  the  art  of  coloring  marble,  enamel,  and  glass  multi- 
plied the  materials  suited  for  mosaics,  and  rendered  their  execu- 


D98 


FINE    ARTS. 


tion  much  more  easy.  It  was  then  carried  to  a  very  high  degree 
of  perfection.  The  mosaic  found  at  Pompeii,  which  represents 
three  masked  figures  playing  on  different  instruments,  with  a 
child  near  them,  is  of  the  most  exquisite  workmanship.  It  is 
formed  of  very  small  pieces  of  glass,  of  the  most  beautiful  colors, 
and  of  various  shades.  The  hair,  the  small  leaves  which  orna- 
ment the  masks,  and  the  eyebrows,  are  most  delicately  expressed. 
What  enhances  the  value  of  this  mosaic  is  the  name  of  the  artist 
worked  in  it — Dioscorides  of  Samos.  Another  mosaic  found  at 
Pompeii  is  the  beautiful  one  of  Acratus  on  a  Panther.  The  sub- 
jects represented  in  mosaics  are  in  endless  variety,  and  generally 
are  derived  from  mythology  or  heroic  myths.  Landscapes  and 
ornaments  in  borders,  in  frets,  in  compartments,  intermingled 
with  tritons,  nereides,  centaurs,  are  to  be  found  on  them.  The 
principal  subject  is  in  the  center,  the  rest  serves  as  a  bordering 
or  framework.  In  the  Greek  tessellated  pavement  found  at 
Halicarnassus,  the  mosaic  is  of  very  fine  workmanship,  being 
composed  of  small  cubes  of  white,  black  and  red  marble. 

Another  and  a  still  more  remarkable  mosaic  was  discovered 
in  the  House  of  the  Faun,  and  is  perhaps  the  most  beautiful 
and  magnificent  specimen  of  the  art  that  has  yet  been  found. 
This  mosaic,  which  is  now  preserved  in  the  museum  nt  Naples, 
is  about  eighteen  feet  long  by  nine  broad.  The  subject  repre- 
sents a  battle  between  Greeks  and  barbarians,  the  latter  appar- 
ently of  eastern  race;  but  a  variety  of  conjectures  have  been 
hazarded  as  to  what  battle  is  actually  depicted.  Some  have 
seen  in  it  the  combat  between  Patroclus  and  Sarpedon,  and  the 
death  of  the  latter;  others  have  recognized  in  it  the  battles  of 
the  Granicus,  of  Arbela,  of  Platoea,  of  Marathon,  etc.  But  the 
opinion  most  commonly  adopted  is  that  of  Professor  Quaranta, 
who  refers  the  picture  to  the  battle  of  Issus.  The  Grecian 
leader,  supposed  to  represent  Alexander  the  Great,  is  drawn  with 
great  beauty  and  vigor.     Charging,  bareheaded,  in  ;.he  midst  of 


BATTLE    REPRESENTED    IN    MOSAICS.  699 

the  fight,  he  has  transfixed  with  his  lance  one  of  the  Persian 
leaders,  whose  horse,  wounded  in  the  shoulder,  had  already 
fallen.  The  expression  of  physical  agony  in  the  countenance  of 
the  wounded  man  is  admirably  depicted.  Another  horse,  which 
an  attendant  had  brought  for  him,  has  arrived  too  late.  The 
death  of  the  Persian  general  has  evidently  decided  the  fortune 
of  the  day.  In  the  background,  the  Persian  spears  are  still 
directed  against  the  advancing  Greeks.  But  at  the  sight  of  the 
fallen  general,  another  Persian  leader  in  a  quadriga,  who,  from 
the  richness  of  his  dress  and  accoutrements,  the  height  of  his 
tiara,  and  his  red  chlamys,  is  probably  Darius  himself,  stretches 
forth  his  right  hand  in  an  attitude  of  alarm  and  despair,  while 
the  charioteer  urges  his  horses  to  precipitate  flight.  Nothing 
can  exceed  the  vigor  with  which  both  men  and  animals  are 
depicted  in  this  unequaled  mosaic.  If  the  Grecian  hero  really 
represents  Alexander  the  Great,  the  mosaic  may  probably  be  a 
copy  of  a  picture  by  Appelles,  the  only  artist  privileged  to  paint 
the  Macedonian  conqueror.  It  is  unfortunate  that  the  work  has 
suffered  much  damage  on  the  left  side,  or  that  which  contains 
the  Grecian  host.  It  was,  however,  in  this  mutilated  state  when 
discovered,  and  seems  to  have  been  under  a  process  of  repara- 
tion. The  border  represents  a  river,  apparently  the  Nile,  with  a 
crocodile,  hippopotamus,  ichneumon,  ibises,  etc.;  whence  some 
have  been  led  to  think  that  the  mosaic  is  a  copy  of  a  picture 
on  the  same  subject  known  to  have  been  painted  by  a  female 
Egyptian  artist  named  Helena,  and  brought  to  Rome  by  Vespa- 
sian. 

Painted  floors  were  first  used  by  the  Greeks,  who  made  and 
colored  them  with  much  care,  until  they  were  driven  out  by  the 
mosaic  floors  called  litJiostrota.  The  most  famous  workman  in 
this  kind  was  Sosus,  who  wrought  at  Pergamus  the  pavement 
which  is  called  asarotiis  oikos^  the  unswept  hall,  made  of  quar- 
rels  or  square   tesserae  of  different   colors,  in  such  a  way  as  to 


700  FINE    ARTS. 

resemble  the  crumbs  and  scraps  that  fell  from  the  table,  and 
such-like  things  as  usually  are  swept  away,  as  if  they  were  still 
left  by  negligence  upon  the  pavement.  There  also  is  admirably 
represented  a  dove  drinking,  in  such  a  way  that  the  shadow  of 
her  head  is  cast  on  the  water.  Other  doves  are  seen  sitting  on 
the  rim  of  the  vessel  preening  themselves  and  basking  in  the  sun. 
The  first  paved  floors  which  came  into  use  were  those  called 
barbarica  and  subtegulanea,  which  were  beaten  down  with  ram- 
mers, as  may  be  known  by  the  name  pavimentum,  from  pavire, 
to  ram.  The  pavements  called  scalpturata  were  first  introduced 
into  Italy  in  the  Temple  of  Jupiter  Capitolinus,  after  the  begin- 
ning of  the  third  Punic  war.  But  ere  the  Cimbric  wars  began, 
such  pavements  were  in  common  use  at  Rome,  and  men  took 
great  delight  and  pleasure  therein. 

For  galleries  and  terraces  open  to  the  sky,  they  were  devised 
by  the  Greeks,  who,  enjoying  a  warm  climate,  used  to  cover 
their  houses  with  them ;  but  where  the  rain  waters  freeze,  pave- 
ments of  this  sort  are  not  to  be  trusted.  To  make  a  terrace  of 
this  sort,  it  is  necessary  to  lay  two  courses  of  boards,  one 
athwart  the  other,  the  ends  of  which  ought  to  be  nailed,  that  they 
should  not  twist  nor  warp;  which  done  take  two  parts  of  new 
rubbish,  and  one  of  tiles  stamped  to  powder;  then  with  other 
three  parts  of  old  rubbish  mix  two  parts  of  lime,  and  herewith 
lay  a  bed  of  a  foot  thickness,  taking  care  to  ram  it  hard  together. 
Over  this  must  be  laid  a  bed  of  mortar,  six  fingers  thick,  and 
upon  this  middle  couch,  large  paving-tiles,  at  least  two  fingers 
deep.  This  sort  of  pavement  is  to  be  made  to  rise  to  the  center 
in  the  proportion  of  one  inch  and  a-half  to  ten  feet.  Being  thus 
laid,  it  is  to  be  planed  and  polished  diligently  with  some  hard 
stone;  but,  above  all,  regard  is  to  be  had  that  the  boarded  floor 
be  made  of  oak.  As  for  such  as  do  start  or  warp  any  way,  they 
be  thought  naught.  Moreover,  it  were  better  to  lay  a  course  of 
flint  or  chaff"  between  it  and  the  lime,  to  the  end  that  the  lime 


GRANDEUR    OF    STYLE. 


701 


may  not  have  so  much  force  to   hurt  the  board   underneath  it. 
It  were  also  well  to  put  at  the  bottom  a  bed  of  round  pebbles. 


APOLLO  CHARMING   NATUBE. 

And  here  we  must  not  forget   another  kind  of  these  pave- 
ments which  are  called  Grsecanicn.  the  manner  of  which  is  this: 


702 


FINE    ARTS. 


Upon  a  floor  well  beaten  with  rammers,  is  laid  a  bed  of  rubbish, 
or  else  broken  tile-shards,  and  then  upon  it  a  couch  of  charcoal, 
well  beaten,  and  driven  close  together,  with  sand,  and  lime,  and 
small  cinders,  well  mixed  together,  to  the  thickness  of  half  a 
foot,  well  leveled;  and  this  has  the  appearance  of  an  earthen 
floor;  but,  if  it  be  polished  with  a  hard  smooth  stone,  the  whole 
pavement  will  seem  all  black.  As  for  those  pavements  called 
lithostrota,  which  are  made  of  divers  colored  squares  or  dice, 
they  came  into  use  in  Sylla's  time,  who  made  one  at  Praeneste, 
in  the  temple  of  Fortune,  which  pavement  remains  to  be  seen 
at  this  day. 

It  may  be  remarked  here,  that  the  Roman  villa  at  North- 
leigh,  in  Oxfordshire,  examined  and  described  by  Mr.  Hakewill, 
abounded  with  beautiful  pavements.  The  substratum  of  one  of 
these,  which  had  been  broken,  was  investigated,  when  it  was 
found  that  the  natural  soil  had  been  removed  to  a  depth  of  near 
seven  feet,  and  the  space  filled  up  with  materials  which  bear  a 
near  resemblance  to  those  which  Plin}'  recommends. 

A  specimen  of  the  coarser  sort  of  mosaic  pavement  is  to  be 
seen  in  the  Townley  Gallery,  in  the  British  Museum. 


WTS^5TVHS. 


The  perfection  which  the  Greeks  attained  in  Hterature  and 
art  is  one  of  the  most  striking  features  in  the  history  of  the  peo- 
ple. Their  intellectual  activity  and  their  keen  appreciation  of 
the  beautiful  constantly  gave  birth  to  new  forms  of  creative 
genius.  There  was  an  uninterrupted  progress  in  the  develop- 
ment of  the  Grecian  mind  from  the  earliest  dawn  of  the  history 
of  the  people  to  the  downfall  of  their  political  independence,  and 
each  succeeding  age  saw  the  production  of  some  of  those  master 
works  of  genius  which  have  been  the  models  and  admiration  of 
all  subsequent  time. 

The  poets  were  the  popular  writers  of  ancient  Greece ;  prose 
writers  appear  no  earlier  than  the  sixth  century  before  the  Chris- 
tian era,  at  which  time  the  first  literary  prose  essay  was  pro- 
duced, for  which  three  contemporary  authors  claim  the  honor. 
The  Greeks  had  arrived  at  a  high  degree  of  civilization  before 
they  can  be  said  to  have  possessed  a  history  of  their  own. 
Nations  far  behind  them  in  intellectual  development  have  infin- 
itely excelled  them  in  this  respect.  The  imagination  seems  to 
have  been  entirely  dazzled  and  fascinated  with  the  glories  of  the 
heroic  ages,  and  to  have  taken  but  little  interest  in  the  events 
which  were  daily  passing  around  them.  Poetr}'  constitutes  the 
chief  part  of  early  Greek  literature.  We  give  specimens  of 
both  Greek  poetry  and  prose.  We  will  not  attempt  to  give 
specimens  of  all,  but  only  such  as  are  considered,  by  common 
consent,  the  best. 

703 


704  LITERATURE. 

HOMEF^. 

Seven  cities  have  contested  for  the  honor  of  the  birth-place 
of  Homer.  It  is  now  generally  agreed  that  he  was  born  about 
950  B.  C,  in  the  City  of  Melesigenes. 

It  is  not  a  little  strange  that  nothing  should  be  known  with 
certainty  of  the  parentage  or  of  the  birth-place,  or  even  of  the 
era  of  the  greatest  poet  of  antiquity,  of  him  who,  next  to  Milton, 
ranks  as  the  greatest  epic  poet  of  the  world.  In  two  respects^ 
all  the  accounts  concerning  him  agree — that  he  had  traveled 
much,  and  that  he  was  afflicted  with  blindness.  From  the  first 
circumstance,  it  has  been  inferred  that  he  was  either  rich  or  en- 
joyed the  patronage  of  the  wealth}^;  but  this  will  not  appear 
necessar}^  when  it  is  considered  that,  in  his  time,  journeys  were 
usuall}^  performed  on  foot,  and  that  he  probably  traveled,  with  a 
view  to  his  support,  as  an  itinerant  musician  or  reciter.  From 
most  of  the  traditions  respecting  him,  it  appears  that  he  was 
poor,  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  necessity,  rather  than  the  mere 
desire  of  gratifying  curiosity,  prompted  his  wanderings.  All 
that  has  been  advanced  respecting  the  occasion  of  his  blindness 
is  mere  conjecture.  Certain  it  is,  that  this  misfortune  arose 
from  accident  or  disease,  and  not  from  the  operation  of  nature 
at  his  birth;  for  the  character  of  his  compositions  seems  rather 
to  suppose  him  all  eye,  than  destitute  of  sight;  and  if  they  were 
even  framed  during  his  blindness,  they  form  a  glorious  proof  of 
the  vivid  power  of  the  imagination  more  than  supplying  the 
want  of  the  bodily  organs,  and  not  merely  throwing  a  variety  of 
its  own  tints  over  the  objects  of  nature,  but  presenting  them  to 
the  mind  in  a  clearer  light  than  could  be  shed  over  them  by  one 
whose  powers  of  immediate  vision  were  perfectly  free  from 
blemish. 

Of  the  incidents  in  the  life   of  Homer,  almost   as   little   is 


HOMER.  705 

known  as  of  bis  parentage  and  birth-place.  However,  the  gen- 
eral account  is  that  he  was  for  many  years  a  school- master  in 
Smyrna;  that,  being  visited  by  one  Mentes,  the  commander  of  a 
Leucadian  ship,  he  was  induced  by  him  to  leave  his  occupation 
and  travel;  that,  in  company  with  this  captain,  he  visited  the 
various  countries  around  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  at 
last  was  left  at  Ithaca,  in  consequence  of  a  weakness  in  his  eyes. 
While  in  this  island,  he  was  entertained  by  a  man  of  fortune 
named  Mentor,  who  narrated  to  him  the  stories  upon  which  after- 
wards the  Odyssey  was  founded.  On  the  return  of  Mentes,  he 
accompanied  him  to  Colophon,  where  he  became  totally  blind. 
He  then  returned  to  Smyrna,  and  afterwards  removed  to  Cyme 
(called  also  Cuma),  in  ^olis,  where  he  received  great  applause 
in  the  recitations  of  his  poems,  but  no  pecuniary  reward;  the 
people  alleging  that  they  could  not  maintain  all  the  Homeroi,  or 
blind  nien^  and  hence  he  obtained  the  name  of  Homer.  Thence 
he  went  about  from  place  to  place,  acquiring  much  wealth  by  his 
recitations,  and  died  at  the  Island  of  Jos,  one  of  the  Cyclades, 
where  he  was  buried. 

The  works  attributed  to  Homer  consist  of  the  two  epic 
poems,  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey.^  of  twenty-four  books  each, 
the  Batrachomyomachia^  or  "Battle  of  the  Frogs  and  Mice,"  a 
humorous,  mock-heroic  poem,  and  somewhat  of  a  parody  on  the 
Iliad;  the  Margites^  a  satirical,  personal  satire,  and  about  thirty 
Hymns.  All  of  these  but  the  two  great  epics  are  now,  however, 
considered  as  spurious. 

But  it  was  left  to  modern  skepticism  (which  seems  to  think 
that  to  doubt  shows  a  higher  order  of  intellect  than  to  believe  on 
evidence)  to  maintain  the  bold  position  that  the  "  Iliad  "  and  the 
"  Odyssey"  were  a  collection  of  separate  lays  by  different  au- 
thors, arranged  and  put  together  for  the  first  time  during  the 
tyranny  and  by  the  order  of  Pisistratus,  at  Athens,  about  550  B. 
C.      The  chief  supporters  of  this  theory  are  the  celebrated  Ger- 

45 


7o6 


LITERATURE. 


man  scholars,  Wolf  and  Heyne,  who  flourished  about  the  year 

1800. 

Those  who  may  desire  to  go  into  the  subject  fully  will  read 
Wolf's  "Prolegomena,"  and  the  strictures  of  his  great  opponent, 
G.  W.  Nitzsch ;  but  a  succinct  account  of  the  argument  may  be 
found  in  Browne's  "  Classical  Literature,"  and  in  the  "  History 
of  Greek  Literature,"  by  Sir  Thomas  Noon  Talfourd. 

Even  Wolf  himself  candidly  declares  that  when  he  reads 
the  "  Iliad"  he  finds  such  unity  of  design,  such  harmony  of  color- 
ing, and  such  consistency  of  character,  that  he  is  ready  to  give 
up  his  theories,  and  to  be  angry  with  himself  for  doubting  the 
common  faith  in  the  personality  of  Homer. 

Professor  Felton,  in  his  excellent  edition  of  the  "  Iliad," 
thus  remarks  in  the  preface:  "  For  my  part,  I  prefer  to  consider 
it,  as  we  have  received  it  from  ancient  editors,  as  one  poem,  the 
work  of  one  author,  and  that  author  Homer — the  first  and 
ofreatest  of  minstrels.  As  I  understand  the  '  Iliad,'  there  is  a 
unity  of  plan,  a  harmony  of  parts,  a  consistency  among  the  dif- 
ferent situations  of  the  same  character,  which  mark  it  as  the 
production  of  one  mind;  but  of  a  mind  as  versatile  as  the  forms 
of  nature,  the  aspects  of  life,  and  the  combinations  of  powers, 
propensities  and  passions  in  man  are  various."  In  these  views, 
the  literary  world  now  very  generally  concurs. 

"  The  hypothesis  to  which  the  antagonists  of  Homer's  per- 
sonality must  resort  implies  something  more  wonderful  than  the 
theory  which  they  impugn.  They  profess  to  cherish  the  deepest 
veneration  for  the  genius  displayed  in  tb.e  poems.  They  agree, 
also,  in  the  antiquity  usually  assigned  to  them;  and  they  make 
this  genius  and  this  antiquity  the  arguments  to  prove  that  one 
man  could  not  have  composed  them.  They  suppose,  then,  that 
in  a  barbarous  age,  instead  of  one  being  marvelously  gifted, 
there  were  many;  a  mighty  race  of  bards,  such  as  the  world  has 
never  since  seen — a  number  of  miracles  instead  of  one.     All  ex- 


HOMER. 


707 


perience  is  against  this  opinion.  In  various  periods  of  the  world 
great  men  have  arisen,  under  very  different  circumstances,  to 
astonish  and  deHght  it;  but  that  the  intuitive  power  should  be  so 
strangely  diffused,  at  any  one  period,  among  a  great  number, 
who  should  leave  no  successors  behind  them,  is  unworthy  of 
credit.  And  we  are  requested  to  believe  this  to  have  occurred 
in  an  age  which  those  who  maintain  the  theory  regard  as  un- 
favorable to  the  poetic  art!  The  common  theory,  independent 
of  other  proofs,  is  prima  facie  the  most  probable.  Since  the 
early  existence  of  the  works  can  not  be  doubted,  it  is  easier  to 
believe  in  one  than  in  twenty  Homers.'^ — Talfourd. 


OPEJ^I|^Q    Af^QUMENT  OF    THE  ILIAD. 

{By  Homer.) 

Achilles'  wrath,  to  Greece  the  direful  spring 

Of  woes  unnumbered,  heavenly  goddess  sing! 

That  wrath  which  hurl'd  to  Pluto's  gloomy  reign 

The  souls  of  mighty  chiefs  untimely  slain; 

Whose  limbs,  unburied  on  the  naked  shore, 

Devouring  dogs  and  hungry  vultures  tore; 

Since  great  Achilles  and  Atrides  strove. 

Such  was  the  sov'reign  doom,  and  such  the  will  of  Jove. 

Pope. 


JVIINERVA    ARMINQ    HEI^gELf    fOI^    BATTLE. 

{By  Homer.) 

Minerva  wrapt  her  in  the  robe  that  curiously  she  wove 
With  glorious  colors,  as  she  sate  on  th'  azure  floor  of  Jove; 
And  wore  the  arms  that  he  puts  on,  bent  to  the  tearful  field. 
About  her  broad-spread  shoulders  hung  his  huge  and  horrid  shield, 
Fring'd  round  with  ever-fighting  snakes;  though  it  was  drawn  to  life 
The  miseries  and  deaths  of  fight;  in  it  frown "d  bloody  Strife; 


yoS  LITERATURE. 

In  it  shin'd  sacred  Fortitude;  in  it  fell  Pursuit  flew; 

In  it  the  monster  Gorgon's  head,  in  which  held  out  to  view 

Were  all  the  dire  ostents  of  Jove;  on  her  big  head  she  plac'd 

His  four-plum'd  glittering  casque  of  gold,  so  admirably  vast, 

It  would  an  hundred  garrisons  of  soldiers  comprehend. 

Then  to  her  shining  chariot  her  vigorous  feet  ascend; 

And  in  her  violent  hand  she  takes  his  grave,  huge,  solid  lance, 

With  which  the  conquests  of  her  wrath  she  useth  to  advance, 

And  overturn  whole  fields  of  men;   to  show  she  was  the  seed 

Of  him  that  thunders.     Then  heaven's  queen,  to  urge  her  horses' speedy 

Takes  up  the  scourge,  and  forth  they  fly;  the  aiii[)le  gates  o^  iieaven 

Rung,  and  flew  open  of  themselves;  the  charge  whereof  is  giren, 

With  all  Olympus  and  the  sky,  to  the  distinguislTd  Hours; 

That  clear  or  hide  it  all  in  clouds,  or  [jour  it  down  in  showers. 

This  way  their  scourge-obeying  horse  made  haste,  and  soon  they  won 

The  top  of  all  the  topful  heavens,  where  aged  Saturn's  son 

Sate  severed  from  the  other  gods. 

Chapman's  traiislation^  v. 


PARTINQ    OF    HECTOF^    AJND    AJ^DF^OMACHE. 

{By  Homer.) 

Hector  now  pass'd,  with  sad  presaging  heart, 
To  seek  his  spouse,  his  soul's  far  dearer  part; 
At  home  he  sought  her,  but  he  sought  in  vain: 
She,  with  one  maid  of  all  her  menial  train, 
Had  thence  retired;  and  with  her  second  joy. 
The  young  Astyanax,  the  hope  of  Troy: 
Pensive  she  stood  on  Ilion's  lowery  height, 
Beheld  the  war,  and  sicken'd  at  the  sight; 
There  her  sad  eyes  in  vain  her  lord  explore, 
Or  weep  the  wounds  her  bleeding  country  bore. 

Hector  this  heard,  return'd  without  delay; 
Swift  through  the  town  he  trod  his  former  way, 
Through  streets  of  palaces  and  walks  of  state, 
And  met  the  mourner  at  the  Scagan  gate. 
With  haste  to  meet  him  sprung  the  joyful  fair, 
His  blameless  wife,  Action's  wealthy  heir. 


ANOII  NT   AUTHORS. 


709 


7IO 


LITERATURE. 

The  nurse  stood  near,  in  whose  embraces  pressM, 

His  only  hope  hunor  smiling  at  her  breast; 

Whom  each  soft  charm  and  early  grace  adorn, 

Fair  as  the  new-born  star  that  gilds  the  morn. 

Silent  the  warrior  smiled,  and  pleased  resign'd 

To  tender  passions  all  his  mighty  mind: 

His  beauteous  princess  cast  a  mournful  look, 

Hung  on  his  hand,  and  then  dejected  spoke; 

Her  bosom  labor'd  with  a  boding  sigh, 

And  the  big  tear  stood  trembling  in  her  eye. 

"  Too  darling  prince!  ah,  whither  dost  thou  run? 
Ah,  too  forgetful  of  thy  wife  and  son! 
And  thirik'st  thou  not  how  wretched  we  shall  be, 
A  widow  I,  a  helpless  orphan  he! 
For  sure  such  courage  length  of  life  denies, 
And  thou  must  fall,  th}'-  virtues   sacrifice. 
Greece  in  her  single  heroes  strove  in  vain; 
Now  hosts  oppose  thee,  and  thou  must  be  slaini 
Oh  grant  me,  gods!  ere  Hector  meets  his  doom, 
All  I  can  ask  of  heaven,  an  early  tomb! 
So  shall  my  days  in  one  sad  tenor  run, 
And  end  with  sorrows  as  they  first  begun. 
No  parent  now  remains  my  griefs  to  share, 
No  father's  aid,  no  mother's  tender  care. 
The  fierce  Achilles  wrapp'd  our  walls  in  fire. 
Laid  TheVje  waste,  and  slew  my  warlike  sire! 
By  the  same  arm  my  seven  brave  brothers  fell, 
In  one  sad  day  beheld  the  gates  of  hell. 
My  mother  lived  to  bear  the  victor's  bands, 
The  queen  of  Hippoplacia's  sylvan  lands. 

Yet,  while  my  Hector  still  survives,  I  see 
My  father,  mother,  brethren,  all  in  thee: 
Alas!   my  parents,  brothers,  kindred,  all 
Once  more  will  perish,  if  my  Hector  fall. 
Thy  wife,  thy  infant,  in  thy  danger  share: 
O,  prove  a  husband's  and  a  father's  care! 
That  quarter  most  the  skillful  Greeks  annoy, 
Where  yon  wild  fig-trees  join  the  walls  of  Troy; 
Thou  from  this  tower  defend  the  important  post; 


HOMER. 


711 


There  Agamemnon  points  his  dreadful  host, 

That  pass  Tydides,  Ajax,  strive  to  gain. 

And  there  the  vengeful  Spartan  fires  his  train. 

Thrice  our  bold  foes  the  fierce  attack  have  given, 

Or  led  by  hopes,  or  dictated  from  heaven. 

Let  others  in  the  field  their  arms  employ. 

But  stay  my  Hector  here,  and  guard  his  Troy." 

The  chief  replied:  "  That  post  shall  be  my  care, 
Nor  that  alone,  but  all  the  works  of  war. 
How  would  the  sons  of  Troy,  in  arms  renown'd. 
And  Troy's  proud  dames,  whose  garments  sweep  the  grounrl, 
Attaint  the  lustre  of  my  former  name, 
Should  Hector  basely  quit  the  field  of  fame? 
My  early  youth  was  bred  to  martial  pains. 
My  soul  impels  me  to  the  embattled  plains; 
Let  me  be  foremost  to  defend  the  throne. 
And  guard  my  father's  glories  and  my  own. 
Yet  come  it  will,  the  day  decreed  by  fates; 
(How  my  heart  trembles  while  my  tongue  relatesi) 
The  day  when  thou,  imperial  Troy!  must  bend, 
Must  see  thy  warriors  fall,  thy  glories  end. 
And  yet  no  dire  presage  so  wounds  my  mind, 
My  mother's  death,  the  ruin  of  my  kind. 
Not  Priam's  hoary  hairs  defiled  with  gore. 
Not  all  my  brothers  gasping  on  the  shore. 
As  thine,  Andromache!   thy  griefs  I  dread; 
I  see  the  trembling,  weeping,  captive  led! 
In  Argive  looms  our  battles  to  design. 
And  woes  of  which  so  large  a  part  was  thine! 
To  bear  the  victor's  hard  commands,  or  bring 
The  weight  of  waters  from  Hyperia's  spring. 
There,  while  you  groan  beneath  the  load  of  life, 
They  cry,  '  Behold  the  mighty  Hector's  wife!' 
Some  haughty  Greek,  who  lives  thy  tears  to  see, 
Embitters  all  thy  woes   l)y  naming  me. 
The  thoughts  of  glory  past,  and  present  shame, 
A  thousand  griefs  shall  waken  at  the  name! 
May  I  lie  cold  before  that  dreadful  day, 
Press'd  with  a  load  of  monumental  clay! 


712  LITERATURE. 

Thy  Hector,  wrapt  in  everlasting  sleep, 

Shall  neither  hear  thee  sigh,  nor  see  thee  weep." 

Thus  having  spoke,  the  illustrious  chief  of  Troy 
Stretch'd  his  fond  arms  to  clasp  the  lovely  boy. 
The  babe  clung  crying  to  his  nurse's  breast. 
Sacred  at  the  dazzling  hehn  and  nodding  crest. 
With  secret  pleasure  each  fond  parent  smiled, 
And  Hector  hasted  to  relieve  his  child; 
The  glittering  terrors  from  his  brows  unbound, 
A.nd  placed  the  gleaming  helmet  on  the  ground. 
Then  kiss'd  the  child,  and,  lifting  high  in  air. 
Thus  to  the  gods  preferr'd  a  father's  prayer: — 

"O,  thou  whose  glory  fills  the  ethereal  throne! 
And  all  ye  deathless  powers,  protect  my  son! 
Grant  him,  like  me,  to  purchase  just  renown, 
To  guard  the  Trojans,  to  defend  the  crown; 
Against  his  country's  foes  the  war  to  wage, 
And  rise  the  Hector  of  the  future  age! 
So  when,  triumphant  from  successful  toils 
Of  heroes  slain,  he  bears  the  reeking  spoils. 
Whole  hosts  may  hail  him  with  deserved  acclaim, 
And  say,  'This  chief  transcends  his  father's  fame;* 
While  pleased,  amidst  the  general  shouts  of  Troy, 
His  mother's  conscious  heart   o'erflows  with  joy." 

He  spoke,  and  fondly  gazing  on  her  charms, 
Restored  the  pleasing  burden  to  her  arms; 
Soft  on  her  fragrant  breast  the  babe  he  laid, 
Hush'd  to  repose,  and  with  a  smile  survey'd. 
The  troubled  pleasure  soon  chastised  by  fear, 
She  mingled  with  the  smile  a  tender  tear. 
The  soften 'd  chief  with  kind  compassion   view'd, 
And  dried  the  falling  drops,  and  thus  pursued: — 

"  Andromache,  my  soul's  far  better  part, 
Why  with  untimely  sorrows  heaves  thy  heart? 
No  hostile  hand  can  antedate  my  doom, 
Till  fate  condemns  me  to  the  silent  tomb. 
Fix'd  is  the  term  to  all  the   race  of  earth; 
And  such  the  hard  condition  of  our  birth, 
No  force  can  then  resist,  no  flight  can  save; 


HOMER. 

All  sink  alike,  the  fearful  and  the  brave. 
No  more — but  hasten  to  thy  tasks  at  home, 
There  guide  the  spindle,  and  direct  the  loom: 
Me  glory  summons  to  the  martial  scene, 
The  field  of  combat  is  the  sphere  for  men; 
Where  heroes  war,  the  foremost  place  I  claim. 
The  first  in  danger,  as  the  first  in  fame." 

Thus  having  said,  the  glorious  chief  resumes 
His  towery  helmet  black  with  shading  plumes. 
His  princess  parts,  with  a  prophetic  sigh, 
Unwilling  parts,  and  oft  reverts  her  eye. 
That  stream 'd  at  every  look;  then,  moving  slow, 
Sought  her  own  palace,  and  indulged  her  woe. 
There,  while  her  tears  deplored  the  god-like  man, 
Through  all  her  train  the  soft  infection  ran, 
The  pious  maids  their  mingled  sorrows  shed, 
And  mourn  the  living  Hector  as  the  dead. 

Pope^  Iliadf  vi. 


713 


THE    RACE    OF    JVIAN. 

(By  Homer.') 

Like  leaves  on  trees  the  race  of  man  is  found, 

Now  green  in  youth,  now  withering  on  the  ground: 

Another  race  the  following  spring  supplies; 

They  fall  successive,  and  successive  rise: 

So  generations  in  their  course  decay; 

So  flourish  these  when  those  are  past  awaj'. 

Px>pe,  Iliad^  vL 


COUJ^ICIL    Of    THE    QOD^. 

(By  Homer.) 
Aurora  now,  fair  daughter  of  the  dawn. 
Sprinkled  with  rosy  light  the  dewy  lawn; 
When  Jove  convened  the  senate  of  the  skies, 
Where  high  Olympus'  cloudly  tops  arise. 


7H 


LITERATURE. 

The  Sire  of  Gods  his  awful  silence  broke, 
The  heavens  attentive  trembled  as  he  spoke: — 

"  Celestial  states,  immortal  gods,  give  ear! 
Hear  our  decree,  and  reverence  what  ye  hear; 
The  fix'd  decree,  which  not  all  heaven  can  move; 
Thou,  Fate,  fulfill  it;  and  ye,  Powers,  approve! 
"What  god  but  enters  yon  forbidden  field. 
Who  yields  assistance,  or  but  wills  to  yield. 
Back  to  the  skies  with  shame  he  shall  be  driven, 
Gash'd  with  dishonest  wounds,  the  scorn  of  heaven: 
Or  far,  oh  far,  from  steep  Olympus  thrown, 
Low  in  the  dark  Tartarean  gulf  shall  groan. 
With  burning  chains  fix'd  to  the  brazen  floors, 
And  lock'd  by  hell's  inexorable  doors; 
As  deep  beneath  the  infernal  center  hurl'd. 
As  from  that  center  to  the  ethereal  world. 
Let  him  who  tempts  me  dread  those  dire  abodes, 
And  know  the  Almighty  is  the  god  of  gods. 
League  all  your  forces,  then,  ye  powers  above, 
Join  all,  and  try  the  omnipotence  of  Jove: 
Let  down  our  golden  everlasting  chain. 
Whose  strong  embrace  holds  heaven,  and  earth,  and  main^ 
Strive  all,  of  mortal  and  immortal  birth, 
To  drag,  by  this,  the  Thunderer  down  to  earth: 
Ye  strive  in  vain!     If  I  but  stretch  this  hand, 
I  heave  the  gods,  the  ocean,  and  the  land; 
I  fix  the  chain  to  great  Olympus'  height. 
And  the  vast  world  hangs  trembling  in  my  sight! 
For  such  I  reign,  unbounded  and  above; 
And  such  are  men  and  gods,  compared  to  Jove." 

Pope^  Iliady  viii. 


NIQHT-^CEJSIE. 

{By  Homer.) 

The  troops  exulting  sat  in  order  round. 
And  beaming  fires  illumined  all  the  ground. 
As  when  the  moon,  refulgent  lamp  of  night! 


HOMER. 

O'er  heaven's  clear  azure  spreads  her  sacred  light, 
When  not  a  breath  disturbs  the  deep  serene, 
And  not  a  cloud  o'ercasts  the  solemn  scene; 
Around  her  throne  the  vivid  planets  roll, 
And  stars  unnumber'd  gild  the  glowing  pole, 
O'er  the  dark  trees  a  yellower  verdure  shed, 
And  tip  with  silver  every  mountain's  head; 
Then  shine  the  vales,  the  rocks  in  prospect  rise, 
A  flood  of  glory  bursts  from  all  the  skies: 
The  conscious  swains,  rejoicing  in  the  sight. 
Eye  the  blue  vault,  and  bless  the  useful  light. 
So  many  flames  before  proud  Ilion  blaze, 
And  lighten  glimmering  Xanthus  with  their  rays: 
The  long-  reflections  of  the  distant  fires 
Gleam  on  the  wails,  and  tremble  on  the  spires. 

Pope,  Iliad,  riiL 


715 


HATEf  ULNEg?    OF  Wy\F{. 


(By  Homer.) 

Cursed  is  the  man,  and  void  of  law  and  right, 

Unworthy  property,  unworthy  light. 

Unfit  for  public  rule,  or  private  care; 

That  wretch,  that  monster,  who  delights  in  war: 

Whose  lust  is  murder,  and  whose  horrid  joy 

To  tear  his  country,  and  his  kind  destroy! 

Pope,  Iliad,  ix. 


py^LpEHOOD. 

{By  Homer.) 

Who  dares  think  one  thing,  and  another  tell, 
My  heart  detests  him  as  the  gates  of  hell. 

Pope,  Iliad,  ix. 


7i6 


LITERATURE. 


^HOWER^    Of  Al^f^OWg. 

{By  llomer.) 

As  the  feathery  snows 
Fall  frequent  on  some  wintry  day,  when  Jove 
Hath  risen  to  shed  them  on  the  race  of  man, 
And  show  his  arrowy  stores;   he  lulls  the  wind, 
Then  shakes  them  down  continual,  covering  thick 
Mountain  tops,  promontories,  flowery  meads, 
And  cultured  valleys  rich,  and  ports  and  shores 
Along  the  margined  deep;  but  there  the  wave 
Their  further  progress  stays;  while  all  besides 
Lies  whelm'd  beneath  Jove's  fast-descending  shower; 
So  thick,  from  side  to  side,  by  Trojans  hurled 
Against  the  Greeks,  and  by  the  Greeks  returned, 
The  stony  volleys  flew. 


Coif'per^  Iliad,  xii. 


PFJIAM    BEQqiNQ    THE    BODY    Of    HECTOF}. 

(By  Homer.) 

"Think,  O  Achilles,  semblance  of  the  gods, 
On  thine  own  father,  full  of  days  like  me, 
And  trembling  on  the  gloomy  verge  of  life. 
Some  neighbor  chief,  it  may  be,  even  now 
Oppresses  him,  and  there  is  none  at  hand, 
No  friend  to  succor  him  in  his  distress. 
Yet,  doubtless,  hearing  that  Achilles  lives, 
He  still   rejoices,  hoping  day  by  day. 
That  one  day  he  shall  see  the  face  again 
Of  his  own  son,  from  distant  Troy  returned. 
But  me  no  comfort  cheers,  whose  bravest  sonS) 
So  late  the  flowers  of  Ilium,  are  all  slain. 
When  Greece  came  hither.  I  had  fifty  sons; 
But  fiery  Mars  hath  thinn'd  them.     One  1  had, 
One,  more  than  all  my  sons,  the  strength  of  Troy, 


HOMER. 


717 


Whom,  standing  for  his  country,  thou  hast  slain— > 

Hector.     His  body  to  redeem  I  come 

Into  Achaia's  fleet,  bringing  myself, 

Ransom  inestimable  to  thy  tent. 

Revrence  the  gods,  Achilles!  recollect 

Thy  father;  fur  his  sake  compassion  show 

Fo  me,  more  pitiable  still,  who  draw 

Home  to  my  lips  (humiliation  yet 

Unseen  on  earth)    his  hand  who  slew  my  son!'* 

So  saying,  he  waken'd  in  his  soul  regret 

Of  his  own  sire;  softly  he  placed  his  hand 

On  Priam's  hand,  and  pushed  him  gently  away. 

Remembrance  melted  both.     Rolling  before 

Achilles'  feet,  Priam  his  son  deplored, 

Wide-slaughtering  Hector,  and  Achilles  wept 

By  turns  his  father,  and  by  turns  his  friend 

Patroclus:  sounds  of  sorrow  fill'd  the  tent. 

Cowper,  Iliad^  xxiv.  - 


HELEIVI  3  LAMENTATION  OVER  HECTOFf. 

(By  Homer.') 

Grief  fell  on  all  around; 
Then  Helen  thus  breathed  forth  her  plaintive  sound: — 

"Hector,  to  Helen's  soul  more  lov'd  than  all 
Whom  I  in  Ilion's  walls  dare  brother  call, 
Since  Paris  here  to  Troy  his  consort  led. 
Who  in  the  grave  had  found  a  happier  bed. 
'Tis  now,  since  here  I  came,  the  twentieth  year, 
Since  left  my  land,  and  all  I  once  held  dear: 
But  never  from  that  hour  has  Helen  heard 
From  thee  a  harsh  reproach  or  painful  word; 
But  if  thy  kindred  blam'd  me,  if  unkind 
The  queen  e'er  glanc'd  at  Helen's  fickle  mind— 
(For  Priam,  still  benevolently  mild, 
Look'd  on  me  as  a  father  views  his  child) — 
Thy  gentle  speech,  thy  gentleness  of  soul. 


7i8 


LITERATURE. 

Would  by  thine  own,  their  harsher  minds  control. 
Hence,  with  a  heart  by  torturing  misery  rent, 
Thee  and  my  hapless  self  I  thus  lament; 
For  no  kind  eye  in  Troy  on  Helen  rests, 
But  who  beholds  me  shudders  and  detests." 

Sotheby,  Iliad,  xxi* 


We  will  here  give  a  few  pages  of  the  history  of  the  Trojan 
war,  giving  some  of  the  characters,  subjects,  etc.,  referred  to  in 
the  preceding  poems  in  a  prose  story. 

PARIg. 

There  was  sorrow,  instead  of  gladness,  in  the  halls  of 
Priam,  because  a  son  was  born  unto  him,  and  because  the  lady 
Hecuba  had  dreamed  a  dream,  from  which  the  seers  knew  that 
the  child  should  bring  ruin  on  the  Ilion  land.  So  his  mother 
looked  with  cold,  unloving  eyes  on  the  babe  as  he  lay  weak  and 
helpless  in  his  cradle,  and  Priam  bade  them  take  the  child  and 
leave  him  on  rugged  Ida,  for  the  fountain  of  his  love  was  closed 
against  him. 

For  five  days  the  dew  fell  on  the  babe  by  night,  and  the 
sun  shone  fiercely  on  him  by  day,  as  he  lay  on  the  desolate  hill- 
side, and  the  shepherd  who  placed  him  there  to  sleep  the  sleep 
of  death  looked  upon  the  child  and  said,  "  He  sleeps  as  babes 
may  slumber  on  silken  couches;  the  gods  will  it  not  that  he 
should  die."  So  he  took  him  to  his  home,  and  the  child  grew 
up  with  ruddy  check  and  nimble  feet,  brave  and  hardy,  so  that 
none  might  be  matched  with  him  for  strength  and  beauty.  The 
fierce  wolves  came  not  near  the  flocks  while  Paris  kept  guard 
near  the  fold,  the  robber  lurked  not  near  the  homestead  when 
Paris  sat  by  the  hearth.  So  all  sang  of  his  strength  and  his 
great  deeds,  and  they  called  him  Alexandros,  the  helper  of  men. 


PARIS.  719 

Many  years  he  tended  the  flocks  on  woody  Ida,  but  Priam, 
his  father,  dwelt  in  Ilion,  and  thought  not  to  see  his  face  again, 
and  he  said  within  himseh",  ''  Surely  my  child  is  long  since  dead, 
and  no  feast  has  been  given  to  the  gods  that  Paris  may  dwell  in 
peace  in  the  dark  kingdom  of  Hades."  Then  he  charged  his 
servants  to  fetch  him  a  bull  from  the  herd,  which  might  be  given 
to  the  man  who  should  conquer  in  the  games,  and  they  chose 
out  one  which  Paris  loved  above  all  others  that  he  drove  out  to 
pasture.  So  he  followed  the  servants  of  Priam  in  grief  and 
anger,  and  he  stood  forth  and  strove  with  his  brethren  in  the 
games,  and  in  all  of  them  Paris  was  the  conqueror.  Then  one 
of  his  brothers  was  moved  with  wrath,  and  lifted  up  his  sword 
against  him,  but  Paris  fled  to  the  altar  of  Zeus,  and  the  voice 
of  Cassandra,  his  sister,  was  heard  saying,  "  O  blind  of  eye  and 
heart,  see  ye  not  that  this  is  Paris,  whom  ye  sent  to  sleep  the 
sleep  of  death  on  woody  Ida?" 

But  Paris  would  not  dwell  in  the  sacred  Ilion,  for  he  loved 
not  those  who  sought  to  slay  him  while  he  was  yet  a  helpless 
child,  and  again  he  tended  the  flocks  on  the  wide  plains  and  up 
the  rough  hillsides.  Strong  he  was  of  limb  and  stout  of  heart, 
and  his  face  shone  with  a  marvelous  beauty,  so  that  they  who 
saw  it  thought  him  fair  as  the  bright  heroes.  There,  as  he 
wandered  in  the  woody  dells  of  Ida,  he  saw  and  wooed  the  beau- 
tiful CEnone,  the  child  of  the  river-god,  Kebren.  Many  a  time 
he  sat  with  the  maiden  by  the  side  of  the  stream,  and  the  sound 
of  their  voices  was  mingled  with  the  soft  murmur  of  the  waters. 
He  talked  to  her  of  love,  and  Gj^none  looked  up  with  a  wondrous 
joy  into  his  beautiful  face,  when  the  morning  dew  gHstened  white 
upon  the  grass  and  when  the  evening  star  looked  out  upon  the 
pale  sky. 

So  was  Paris  wedded  to  CEnone,  and  the  heart  of  the 
maiden  was  full  of  happiness,  for  none  was  braver  or  more  gentle 
— none  so  stout  of  heart,  so  lithe  of-hmb,  so  tender   and  loving, 


720 


LITERATURE. 


as  Paris,     Thus  passed  the  days  away  in  a  swilt   dream   of  joy, 
for  CEnone  thought  not  of  the  change  that  was  coming. 

There  was  feasting  and  mirth  among  the  gods  and  men,  for 
the  brave  Peleus  had  won  Thetis,  the  maiden  of  the  sea,  for  his 
bride;  and  she  rose  from  the  depths  of  her  coral  caves  to  go  to 
his  home  in  Phthia.  The  banquet  was  spread  in  his  ancient  hall, 
and  the  goblets  sparkled  with  the  dark  wine,  for  all  the  gods  had- 
come  down  from  Olympus  to  share  the  feast  in  the  house  of 
Peleus.  Only  Eris  was  not  bidden,  for  she  was  the  child  of 
War  and  Hatred,  and  they  feared  to  see  her  face  in  the  hours  of 
laughter  and  mirth;  but  her  evil  heart  rested  not  till  she  found  a 
way  to  avenge  herself  for  the  wrong  which  they  had  done  to 
her. 

The  gods  were  listening  to  the  song  of  Phoebus  Apollo  as 
he  made  sweet  music  on  the  strings  of  his  harp,  when  a  golden 
apple  was  cast  upon  the  table  before  them.  They  knew  not 
whence  it  came,  only  they  saw  that  it  was  to  be  a  gift  for  the 
fairest  in  that  great  throng,  for  so  was  it  written  on  the  apple. 
Then  the  joy  of  the  feast  was  gone,  and  the  music  of  the  song 
ceased,  for  there  was  a  strife  which  should  have  the  golden  prize; 
and  Here,  the  Queen,  said,  "  The  gods  themselves  do  obeisance- 
to  me  when  I  enter  the  halls  of  Olympus,  and  men  sing  of  the  glory 
of  my  majesty;  therefore  must  the  gift  be  mine."  But  Athene 
answered,  and  said,  "  Knowledge  and  goodness  are  better  things 
than  power;  mine  is  the  worthier  title.'"  Then  the  fair  Aphro- 
dite lifted  her  white  arm,  and  a  smile  of  triumph  passed  over  her 
face  as  she  said,  "  I  am  the  child  of  love  and  beauty,  and  the 
stars  danced  in  the  heaven  for  joy  as  I  sprang  from  the  sea  foam; 
I  dread  not  the  contest,  for  to  me  alone  must  the  golden  gift  be 
given." 

So  the  strife  waxed  hot  in  the  banquet  hall,  till  Zeus  spake 
with  a  loud  voice,  and  said,  "  It  needs  not  to  strive  now.  Amid 
the  pine  forest  of  Ida  dwells  Paris,  the  fairest  of  the  sons  of  men; 


PARIS.  721 

let  him  be  judge,  and  the  apple  shall  be  hers  to  whom  he  shall 
give  it."  Then  Hermes  rose  and  led  them  quickly  over  land 
and  sea,  to  go  to  the  rough  hillside  where  Paris  wooed  and  won 
CEnone. 

Presently  the  messenger  of  Zeus  stood  before  Paris,  and 
said,  ''  Fairest  of  the  sons  of  men,  there  is  strife  among  the 
undying  gods,  for  Here  and  Aphrodite  and  Athene  seek  each  to 
have  the  golden  apple  which  must  be  given  to  her  who  is 
most  fair.  Judge  thou,  therefore,  between  them  when  they 
come,  and  give  peace  again  to  the  halls  of  Zeus." 

In  a  dream  of  joy  and  love  CEnone  sate  by  the  river-side, 
and  she  looked  on  her  own  fair  face,  which  was  shown  to  her  in 
a  still  calm  pool  where  the  power  of  the  stream  came  not,  and 
she  said  to  herself,  "  The  gods  are  kind,  for  they  have  given  to 
me  a  better  gift  than  that  of  beauty,  for  the  love  of  Paris  sheds 
for  me  a  wondrous  beauty  over  the  heaven  above  and  the  broad 
earth  beneath.'"  Then  came  Paris,  and  said,  "See,  CEnone, 
dearest  child  of  the  bright  waters,  Zeus  hath  called  me  to  be 
judge  in  a  weighty  matter.  Hither  are  coming  Here,  the 
Queen,  and  Aphrodite  and  Athene,  seeking  each  the  golden 
apple  which  must  be  given  to  her  alone  who  is  the  fairest.  Yet 
go  not  away,  CEnone;  the  broad  vine  leaves  have  covered  our 
summer  bower;  there  tarry  and  listen  to  the  judgment,  where 
none  may  see  thee." 

So  Paris  sat  in  judgment,  and  Here  spake  to  him,  and  said, 
"  I  know  I  am  the  fairest,  for  none  other  has  beauty  and  majesty 
like  mine.  Hearken,  then,  to  me,  and  I  will  give  thee  power  to 
do  great  deeds  among  the  sons  of  men,  and  a  name  which  the 
minstrels  shall  sing  of  among  those  who  shall  be  bom  in  long 
time  to  come."  But  Athene  answered,  "Heed  not  her  words, 
O  Paris.  Thy  hand  is  strong  and  th}^  heart  is  pure,  and  the 
men  among  whom  thou  dwellest  honor  thee  even  now  because 
thou  hast  done  them  good.     There  are  better  things  than  power 

46 


722 


LITERATURE. 


and  high  renown;  and  if  thou  wilt  hearken  to  me,  I  will  give 
thee  wisdom  and  strength;  and  pure  love  shall  be  thine,  and  the 
memory  of  happy  days  when  thou  drawest  near  to  the  dark  land 
of  Hades." 

Then  Paris  thought  that  he  heard  the  voice  of  CEnone,  and 
it  seemed  to  whisper  to  him,  "  Wisdom  and  right  are  better  thai^ 
power,  give  it  to  Athene."  But  Aphrodite  gazed  upon  him 
with  laughing  eyes,  as  she  came  up  closer  to  his  side.  Her  dark 
curls  fell  waving  over  his  shoulder,  and  he  felt  the  breath  from 
her  rosy  lips,  as  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm  and  whispered 
softly  in  his  ear,  "  I  talk  not  to  thee  of  my  beaut}',  for  it  may  be 
thou  seest  that  I  am  very  fair,  but  hearken  to  me,  and  I  will  give 
thee  for  thy  wife  the  fairest  of  all  the  daughters  of  men."  But 
Paris  answered,  "  I  need  not  thy  gift,  O  child  of  the  bright  sea 
foam,  for  fairer  wife  than  CEnone  no  mortal  man  may  hope  to 
have.  Yet  art  thou  the  fairest  of  all  the  daughters  of  the  undy- 
ing gods,  and  the  gift  of  the  fairest  is  thine." 

So  he  placed  the  golden  apple  in  the  palm  of  her  snow- 
white  hand,  and  the  touch  of  her  slender  fingers  tlirilled  through 
the  heart  of  Paris  as  she  parted  from  him  with  smiling  lip  and 
laughing  eye.  But  Here,  the  Queen,  and  Athene,  the  virgin 
child  of  Zeus,  went  away  displeased,  and  evermore  their  wrath 
lay  heavy  on  the  city  and  land  of  Ilion. 

Then  went  Paris  to  CEnone,  and  he  twined  his  arms  around 
her  and  said,  "  Didst  thou  see  the  dark  countenance  of  the  lady 
Here  when  I  gave  to  the  fairest  the  gift  which  the  fairest  alone 
ma}^  have  ?  Yet  what  care  I  for  the  wrath  of  Here  and  Athene  ? 
One  smile  from  the  lips  of  Aphrodite  is  better  than  their  favor 
for  a  whole  life  long."  But  CEnone  answered  sadly,  "  I  would 
that  thou  mayest  speak  truly,  Paris;  yet  in  my  e3'es  the  lady 
Athene  is  fairer  far,  and  Aphrodite  is  ever  false  as  fair."  Then 
Pans  clasped  her  closer  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  pale  cheek, 
and  said  nothing. 


PARIS. 


723 


But  the  fierce  wrath  of  Eris  was  not  ended  yet.     Far  away 
in  the  western  land,  there  was   sore   famine   in  the   kingdom  of 


the  mighty  Menelaus,  the  people  died  by  the  wayside,  and  the 
warriors  had  no  strength  to  go  forth  to  the  battle  or  the  hunts- 
men to  the   chase.     Many  time'-^   they  sought   to   know  the  will 


724 


LITERATURE. 


of  the  gods,  but  they  heard  onl}^  dark  words  for  answers,  till 
Phcebus  Apollo  said  that  the  famine  should  never  cease  from  the 
land  until  they  brought  from  Ilion  the  bones  of  the  children  of 
Prometheus,  whom  Zeus  bound  on  the  desolate  crags  of  Cau- 
casus. So  Menclaus,  the  King,  departed  from  his  home  and 
went  to  the  city  of  Priam.  There  he  saw  the  beautiful  Paris, 
and  took  him  to  the  Spartan  land,  for  he  said  that  Paris  should 
return  home  rich  and  wealthy.  So  Paris  believed  his  words, 
and  sailed  with  him  over  the  wide  sea.  Long  time  he  abode  in 
Sparta,  and  day  by  day  he  saw  the  lady  Helen  in-  the  halls  of 
Menelaus.  At  the  first  he  thouglit  within  himself,  "  I  would 
that  Gllnone  were  here  to  see  the  wife  of  Menelaus,  for  surely 
she  is  fairer  than  aught  else  on  the  earth."  But  soon  he  thought 
less  and  less  of  Qj^none,  who  was  sorrowing  for  his  long  sojourn 
in  the  strange  land,  as  she  wandered  amid  the  pine  forests  of 
woody  Ida. 

Quickly  sped  the  days  for  Paris,  for  his  heart  was  filled  with 
a  strange  love,  and  the  will  of  Eris  was  being  accomplished 
within  him.  Fie  thous^ht  not  of  Ql)none  and  her  lonelv  wander- 
ings  on  heathy  Ida;  he  cared  not  lor  the  kindly  deeds  of  Mene- 
laus; and  so  it  came  to  pass  that,  when  Menelaus  was  far  away, 
Paris  spoke  words  of  evil  love  to  Helen  and  beguiled  her  to 
leave  her  home.  Stealthily  they  fled  away,  and  sailed  over  the 
sea  till  they  came  to  the  Ilion  land;  and  Helen  dwelt  with  Paris 
in  the  house  of  his  father,  Priam. 

But  CEnone  mourned  for  the  love  which  she  had  lost,  and 
her  tears  fell  into  the  gentle  stream  of  Kebren  as  she  sat  on  its 
grassy  banks.  "  Ah  me,"  she  said,  "  my  love  hath  been  stung 
by  Aphrodite.  O  Paris,  Paris!  hast  thou  forgotten  all  thy 
words?  Here  thine  arms  were  clasped  around  me,  and  liere,  as 
thy  lips  were  pressed  to  mine,  thou  didst  say  that  the  wide  earth 
had  for  thee  no  living  thing  so  fair  as  Qlnone.  Sure  am  I  that 
Helen  hath  brought  to  thee  only  a  false  joy;  for  her  heart  is  not 


PARIS. 


725 


thine  as  the  heart  of  a  maiden  when  it  is  given  to  her  first  love; 
and  sure  am  I,  too,  that  tielen  is  not  a  fairer  wife  than  I,  for  my 
heart  is  all  thine,  and  the  beauty  of  woman  is  marred  when  she 
yields  herself  to  a  lawless  love.  But  the  cloud  is  oratherinsr 
round  thee;  and  I  am  sprung  from  the  race  of  the  gods,  and 
mine  eyes  are  opened  to  behold  the  things  that  willingly  I  would 
not  see.  I  see  the  waters  black  with  ships,  and  the  hosts  of  the 
Achaians  gathered  round  the  walls  of  Ilion.  I  see  the  moons 
roll  round,  while  thy  people  strive  in  vain  against  the  wrath  of 
Here  and  the  might  of  the  son  of  Peleus ;  and  far  away  I  see  the 
flames  that  shall  burn  the  sacred  Ilion.  I  see  thy  father  smitten 
down  in  his  own  hall,  and  the  spear  that  shall  drink  thy  life- 
blood.  Ah  me!  for  the  doom  that  is  coming,  and  for  the  pleas- 
ant days  when  we  loved  and  wandered  among  the  dells  of  Ida." 

So  Paris  dwelt  with  Helen  in  the  house  of  Priam;  but  men 
said,  "  This  is  no  more  the  brave  Alexandros,"  for  he  lay  at 
ease  on  silken  couches,  and  his  spear  and  shield  hung  idle  on  the 
wall.  For  him  the  wine  sparkled  in  the  goblet  while  the  sun 
rose  high  in  the  heavens,  and  he  cared  only  to  listen  to  the  voice 
of  Helen,  or  the  minstrels  who  sang  of  the  love  and  the  bowers 
of  laughter-loving  Aphrodite,  And  Helen  sat  by  his  side  in 
sullen  mood,  for  she  thought  of  the  former  clays  and  of  the  evil 
which  she  had  done  to  the  good  King  Menelaus.  Then  there 
came  into  her  heart  a  deep  hatred  for  Paris,  and  she  loathed 
him  for  his  false  words  and  his  fond  looks,  as  he  lay  quaffing  the 
wine  and  taking  his  rest  by  day  and  by  night  upon  the  silken 
couches. 

But  throughout  the  streets  of  Ilion  there  was  hurrying  and 
shouting  of  armed  men,  and  terror  and  cries  of  women  and 
children;  for  the  hosts  of  the  Achaians  were  come  to  take  ven- 
geance for  the  wrongs  of  Menelaus.  Yet  Paris  heeded  not  the 
prayers  of  his  brethren,  that  he  should  send  back  Helen;  so  she 
tarried  by  his  side  in  his  gilded  chambers,  and  he  went  not  forth 


726  LITERATURE. 

to  the  battle,  till  all  men  reviled  him  for  his  evil  love,  because  he 
had  forsaken  the  fair  CEnone. 

So  for  Paris  fell  the  mighty  Hector;  for  him  died  the  brave 
Sarpedon;  and  the  women  of  Ilion  mourned  for  their  husbands 
who  were  smitten  down  by  the  Achaian  warriors.  Fiercer  and 
fiercer  grew  the  strife,  for  Here  and  Athene  fought  against  the 
men  of  Troy,  and  no  help  came  from  the  laughter-loving  Aphro- 
dite. 

Many  times  the  years  went  round,  while  yet  the  Achaians 
strove  to  take  the  city  of  Priam,  till  at  last  for  very  shame  Paris 
took  from  the  wall  his  spear  and  shield,  and  went  forth  to  the 
battle,  but  the  strength  of  his  heart  and  of  his  arm  was  gone,  and 
he  trembled  at  the  fierce  war-cries,  as  a  child  trembles  at  the  roar- 
inof  of  the  storm.  Then  before  the  walls  of  Ilion  there  was  fiercer 
strife,  and  the  bodies  of  the  slain  lay  in  heaps  upon  the  battle  plain. 
Faint  and  weary,  the  people  of  Priam  were  shut  up  within  the 
walls,  until  the  Achaians  burst  into  the  gates  and  gave  the  city 
to  sword  and  fiame.  Then  the  cry  of  men  and  women  went  up 
to  the  high  heaven,  and  the  blood  ran  in  streams  upon  the 
ground.  With  a  mighty  blaze  rose  up  the  flames  of  the  burning 
city,  and  the  dream  of  Paris  was  ended. 

Fast  he  fled  from  the  wrath  of  Menclaus,  and  he  cared  not 
to  look  back  on  the  Argive  Helen  or  the  slaughter  of  his  kins- 
folk and  his  people.  But  the  arrow  of  Philoctetes  came  hissing 
through  the  air,  and  the  barb  was  fixed  in  the  side  of  Paris. 
Hastily  he  drew  it  from  the  wound,  but  the  weapons  of  Herakles 
failed  not  to  do  their  work,  and  the  poison  sped  through  his 
burning  veins.  Onwards  he  hastened  to  the  pine  forests  of  Ida, 
but  his  limbs  trembled  beneath  him,  and  he  sank  down  as  he 
drew  nigh  to  the  grassv  bank  where  he  had  tended  his  flocks  in 
the  former  days.  "  Ah,  Qllnone,"  he  said,  "  the  evil  dream  is 
over,  and  th}'  \'oice  comes^  back  to  mine  ear,  soft  and  loving  as 
when  I  wooed   and  won   thee   amonji   the  dells  of  Ida.      Thou 


PARIS.  727 

hearest  me  not,  CEnone,  or  else  I  know  that,  forgiving  all  the 
wrong,  thou  wouldst  hasten  to  help  me." 

And  even  as  he  spoke  CEnone  stood  before  him,  fair  and 
l^eautiful  as  in  the  days  that  were  past.  The  glory  as  of  the 
pure  evening  time  was  shed  upon  her  face,  and  her  eye  glistened 
with  the  light  of  an  undying  love.  Then  she  laid  her  hand  upon 
him  and  said,  gentl}',  "Dost  thou  know  me,  Paris .^  I  am  the 
same  CEnone  whom  thou  didst  woo  in  the  dells  of  woody  Ida.  My 
grief  hath  not  changed  me,  but  thou  art  not  the  same,  O  Paris, 
for  thy  love  hath  wandered  far  away,  and  thou  hast  yielded  thy- 
self long  to  an  evil  dream."  But  Paris  said,  "  I  have  wronged 
thee,  CEnone,  fairest  and  sweetest,  and  what  may  atone  for  the 
wrong .^  The  fire  burns  in  my  veins,  m}^  head  reels,  and  mine 
eye  is  dim;  look  but  upon  me  once,  that  thinking  on  our  ancient 
love,  I  may  fall  asleep  and  die." 

Then  CEnone  knelt  by  the  side  of  Paris,  and  saw  the  wound 
which  the  arrow  of  Philoctetes  had  made;  but  soon  she  knew 
that  neither  gods  nor  men  could  stay  the  poison  with  which 
Herakles  had  steeped  his  mighty  weapons.  There  she  knelt,  but 
Paris  spoke  not  more.  The  coldness  of  death  passed  over  him 
as  CEnone  looked  down  upon  his  face  and  thought  of  the  days 
when  they  lived  and  loved  amid  the  dells  of  Ida. 

Long  time  she  knelt  by  his  side,  until  the  stars  looked  forth 
in  the  sky.  Then  CEnone  said,  "O  Eris,  well  hast  thou  worked 
thy  will,  and  well  hath  Aphrodite  done  thy  bidding.  O  Paris, 
we  have  loved  and  suffered,  but  I  never  did  thee  wrong,  and  now 
I  follow  thee  to  the  dark  land  of  Hades." 

Presently  the  flame  shot  up  to  heaven  from  the  funeral  pile 
of  Paris,  and  CEnone  lay  down  to  rest  on  the  fiery  couch  by  his 
side. 


728 


LITERATURE. 


ACHILLEA. 


Nine  years  the  Achaians  had  ibught  against  Ilion  to  avenge 
the  wrongs  and  woes  of  Helen,  and  still  the  war  went  on,  and 
onl}'  the  words  of  Kalchas,  which  he  spoke  long  ago  in  Aulis, 
cheered  them  with  the  hope  that  the  day  of  vengeance  was  near 
at  hand.  For  strife  had  arisen  between  the  King,  Agamemnon, 
and  the  mighty  son  of  Peleus,  and  it  seemed  to  the  men  of 
Argos  that  all  their  toil  must  be  for  naught.  In  fierce  anger 
Achilles  vowed  a  vow  that  he  would  go  forth  no  more  to  the 
battle,  and  he  sat  in  sullen  silence  within  his  tent,  or  wandered 
gloomily  along  the  sea-shore.  With  fresh  courage  the  hosts  of 
the  Trojans  poured  out  from  their  walls  when  they  knew  that 
Achilles  fought  no  more  on  the  side  of  the  Achaians,  and  the 
chieftains  sought  in  vain  for  his  help  when  the  battle  went  against 
them.  Then  the  face  of  the  war  was  changed,  for  the  men  of 
Ilion  came  forth  from  their  city,  and  shut  up  the  Achaians 
within  their  camp,  and  fought  fiercely  to  take  the  ships.  Many 
a  chief  and  warrior  was  smitten  down,  and  still  Achilles  sat 
within  his  tent,  nursing  his  great  wrath,  and  reviling  all  who 
came  before  him  with  gifts  and  prayers. 

But  dearer  than  all  others  to  the  child  of  the  sea-nymph, 
Thetis,  was  Patroclus,  the  son  of  Mencetius,  and  the  heart  of 
Achilles  was  touched  with  pity  when  he  saw  the  tears  stream 
down  his  face,  and  he  said,  "  Dear  friend,  tell  me  thy  grief,  and 
hide  nothing  from  me.  Hast  thou  evil  tidings  from  our  home  at 
Phthia,  or  weepest  thou  for  the  troubles  which  vex  us  here.^" 
Then  Patroclus  spoke  out  boldly,  and  said,  "Be  not  angry  at 
my  words,  Achilles.  The  strength  of  the  Argives  is  wasted 
away,  and  the  mightiest  of  their  chieftains  lie  wounded  or  dead 
around  their  ships.  They  call  thee  the  child  of  Peleus  and  of 
Thetis,  but  men  will  say  that  thou  art   sprung  from   the   rugged 


ACHILLES.  729 

rocks  and  the  barren  sea,  if  thou  seest  thy  people  undone  and 
liftest  not  an  arm  to  help  them."  Then  Achilles  answered, 
"  My  triend,  the  vow  is  on  me,  and  I  can  not  go,  but  put  thou  on 
my  armor  and  go  forth  to  the  battle.  Only  take  heed  to  my 
words,  and  go  not  in  ni}'  chariot  against  the  City  of  Ilion. 
Drive  our  enemies  from  the  ships,  and  let  them  fight  in  the  plain, 
and  then  do  thou  come  back  to  my  tent." 

Then  the  hearts  of  the  Achaians  were  cheered,  for  next  to 
Achilles  there  was  not  in  all  the  host  a  warrior  more  brave  and 
mighty  than  Patroclus.  At  his  word  the  Myrmidons  started  up 
from  their  long  rest,  and  hastily  snatched  their  arms  to  follow 
him  to  the  battle.  Presently  Patroclus  came  forth.  The  glisten- 
ins:  helmet  of  Achilles  was  on  his  head,  and  his  armor  was 
girt  around  his  body.  Only  he  bore  not  his  mighty  spear,  for 
no  mortal  man  might  wield  that  spear  in  battle  but  Achilles, 
Betbre  the  tent  stood  the  chariot,  and  harnessed  to  it  were  the 
horses,  Xanthos  and  Balios,  who  grow  not  old  nor  die. 

So  Patroclus  departed  for  the  fight,  and  Achilles  went  into 
his  tent,  and  as  he  poured  out  the  dark  wine  from  a  golden 
goblet,  he  prayed  to  Zeus,  and  said,  "O  thou  that  dwellest  far 
away  in  Dodona,  where  the  Selloi  do  thy  bidding  and  proclaim 
thy  will,  give  strength  and  victory  to  Patroclus,  my  friend.  Let 
him  drive  the  men  of  Ilion  from  the  ships  and  come  back  safe  to 
me  after  the  battle."  But  Zeus  heard  the  prayer  in  part  only, 
for  the  doom  was  that  Achilles  should  see  Patroclus  alive  no 
more. 

Then  the  hosts  of  the  Trojans  trembled  as  Patroclus  drew 
nigh  on  the  chariot  of  Achilles,  and  none  dared  to  go  forth 
against  him.  Onward  sped  the  undying  horses,  and  wherever 
they  went  the  ground  was  red  with  the  blood  of  the  Trojans 
who  were  smitten  down  by  his  spear.  Then  Sarpedon,  the 
great  chief  of  the  Lykians,  spake  to  Glaucus,  and  said,  "  O 
friend,  I  must  go  forth  and  do  battle  with  Patroclus.     The  peo- 


730 


LITERA  ruRi:. 


pie  fall  beneath  his  sword,  and  it  is  not  tit  that  the  chieftains 
should  be  backward  in  the  strife."  But  the  doom  of  Sarpedon 
was  sealed,  and  presently  his  body  lay  lifeless  on  the  ground, 
while  the  men  of  Argos  and  of  Ilion  fought  for  his  glittering 
arms. 

Then  the  doom  came  on  Patroclus  also,  for  Phcebus  Apollo 
fouo-ht  ao-ainst  him  in  the  battle,  and  in  the  dust  was  rolled  the 
helmet  which  no  enemy  had  touched  when  it  rested  on  the  head 
of  Achilles.  Before  him  flashed  the  spear  of  Hector,  as  he 
said,  "  The  hour  of  thy  death  is  come,  Patroclus,  and  the  aid  of 
Achilles  can  not  reach  thee  now."'  But  Patroclus  said  only, 
"  It  is  tliy  time  for  boasting  now;  wait  yet  a  little  while,  and  the 
sword  of  Achilles  shall  drink  thy  life-blood." 

So  Patroclus  died,  and  there  was  a  fierce  fight  over  his 
body,  and  many  fell  on  both  sides,  until  there  was  a  great  heap 
of  dead  around  it.  But  away  from  the  fight,  the  horses  Xan- 
thos  and  Balios  wept  for  their  charioteer,  and  they  would  not  stir 
with  the  chariot,  but  stood  fixed  firm  as  pillars  on  the  ground, 
till  Zeus  looked  down  in  pity  on  them,  and  said,  "  Was  it  for 
this  tliat  I  gave  you  to  Peleus,  the  chieftain  of  Phthia — horses 
who  can  not  grow  old  or  die,  to  a  mortal  man,  the  most 
wretched  thing  that  crawls  upon  the  earth?  But  fear  not;  no 
enemy  shall  lay  hands  on  the  chariot  of  Achilles,  or  on  the 
immortal  horses  which  bear  it.  Your  limbs  shall  be  filled  with 
new  strength,  and  ye  shall  fly  like  birds  across  the  battle-field 
till  ye  come  to  the  tent  of  your  master."  Then  the  horses  wept 
no  more,  but  swift  as  eagles  they  bore  Automedon  through  the 
fight,  while  Hector  and  his  people  strove  fiercely  to  seize  them.. 
At  last  the  battle  was  over,  and,  while  the  Achaians  bore  the 
body  of  Patroclus  to  the  ships,  Antilochus,  the  son  of  Nestor, 
went  to  the  tent  of  Achilles,  and  said,  "  Thy  friend  is  slain,  and 
Hector  has  his  armor." 

Then   the   dark  cloud  of  woe   fell  on   the  soul  of  Achilles. 


ACHIIJJCS. 


^^ 


In  a  fierce  grief  he  threw  earth  with  both  hands  into  the  air,  and 
rent  his  clothes,  and  lay  down  weeping  in  the  dust.  Far  away 
in  her  coral  caves  beneath  the  sea  Thetis  heard  the  deep  groans 
of  her  child,  and,  like  a  white  mist,  she  rose  from  the  waters  and 
went  to  comfort  him;  and  she  said,  "  Why  weepest  thou,  my 
son?  When  Agamemnon  did  thee  wrong,  thou  didst  pray  that 
the  Achaians  might  sorely  need  thy  aid  in  the  battle,  and  thy 
wish  has  been  accomplished.  So  may  it  be  again."  But  Achil- 
les answered,  "  Of  what  profit  is  it  to  me,  my  mother,  that 
my  prayer  has  been  heard,  since  Patroclus,  my  friend,  is  slain, 
and  Hector  has  my  armor?  One  thing  only  remains  to  me  now. 
I  will  slay  Hector  and  avenge  the  slaughter  of  Patroclus." 
Then  the  tears  ran  down  the  cheeks  of  Thetis  as  she  said, 
"  Then  is  thine  own  doom  accomplished,  for  when  thou  slayest 
Hector,  thou  hast  not  many  days  to  live."  "  So  then  let  it  be," 
said  Achilles;  "the  mighty  Herakles  tasted  of  death;  there- 
fore let  me  die  also,  so  only  Hector  dies  before  me." 

Then  Thetis  sought  no  more  to  turn  him  from  his  purpose, 
but  she  went  to  the  house  of  Hephaistos  to  get  armor  for  her 
child  in  place  of  that  which  Hector  had  taken  from  Patroclus. 
And  Achilles  vowed  a  vow  that  twelve  sons  of  the '  Trojans 
should  be  slain  at  the  grave  of  his  friend,  and  that  Hector  should 
die  before  the  funeral  rites  were  done.  Then  Agamemnon  sent 
him  gifts,  and  spake  kindly  words,  so  that  the  strife  between 
them  might  end,  and  Achilles  now  go  forth  to  fight  for  the 
Achaians.  So,  in  the  armor  which  Hephaistos  had  wrought  at 
the  prayer  of  Thetis,  he  mounted  his  chariot,  and  bade  his  horses 
bring  him  back  safe  from  the  battle-field.  Then  the  horse  Xan- 
thos  bowed  his  head,  and  the  long  tresses  of  his  mane  flowed 
down  to  the  earth  as  he  made  answer,  "  We  will  in  very  truth 
save  thee,  O  mighty  Achilles;  but  thy  doom  is  near  at  hand, 
and  the  fault  rests  not  with  us  now,  or  when  we  left  Patroclus 
dead  on  the  battle-field,  for  Phoebus  Apollo  slew  him  and   gave 


^■>2  LITERATURE. 

the  glory  and  the  arms  to  Hector."  And  Achilles  said,  ''  Why 
speak  to  me  of  evil  omens?  I  know  that  I  shall  see  my  father 
and  my  mother  again  no  more;  but  if  I  must  die  in  a  strange 
land,  I  will  first  take  my  fill  of  vengeance/' 

Then  the  war-cry  of  Achilles  was  heard  again,  and  a 
mio-hty  life  was  poured  into  the  hearts  of  the  Achaians,  as  they 
seized  their  arms  at  the  sound.  Thick  as  withering  leaves  in 
autumn  fell  the  Trojans  beneath  his  unerring  spear.  Chief  after 
chief  was  smitten  down,  until  their  hosts  fell  in  terror  within  the 
walls  of  Ilion.  Only  Hector  awaited  his  coming,  but  the 
shadow  of  death  was  stealing  over  him,  for  Phoebus  Apollo  had 
forsaken  the  great  champion  of  Troy  because  Zeus  so  willed  it. 
So  in  the  strife  the  strength  of  Hector  failed,  and  he  sank  down 
on  the  earth.  The  foot  of  Achilles  rested  on  his  breast,  and 
the  spear's  point  was  on  his  neck,  while  Hector  said,  "  Sla}'  me 
if  thou  wilt,  but  give  back  my  body  to  my  people.  Let  not 
the  beasts  of  the  field  devour  it,  and  rich  gifts  shall  be  thine 
from  my  father  and  my  mother  for  this  kindly  deed."  But  the 
eyes  of  Achilles  flashed  with  a  deadly  hatred,  as  he  answered, 
"Were  Priam  to  give  me  thy  weight  in  gold,  it  should  not  save 
thy  carcass  from  the  birds  and  dogs."  And  Hector  said,  "  I 
thought  not  to  persuade  thee,  for  thy  heart  is  made  of  iron,  but 
see  that  thou  pay  not  the  penalty  for  thy  deed  on  the  day  when 
Paris  and  Phoebus  Apollo  shall  slay  thee  at  the  Scaean  gates  of 
Ilion."  Then  the  life-blood  of  Hector  reddened  the  ground  as 
Achilles  said,  '' Die,  wretch!  My  fate  I  will  meet  in  the  hour 
when  it  may  please  the  undying  gods  to  send  it." 

But  not  yet  was  the  vengeance  of  Achilles  accomplished. 
At  his  feet  lay  Hector  dead,  but  the  rage  in  his  heart  was  fierce 
as  ever,  and  he  tied  the  bod}'  to  his  chariot  and  dragged  it  furi- 
ousl}',  till  none  who  looked  on  it  could  say,  "  This  was  the  brave 
and  noble  Hector."  But  things  more  fearful  still  came  after- 
wards, for  the  funeral  rites  were  done  to   Patroclus,  and   twelve 


ACHILLES. 


733 


sons  ot"  the  Trojans  were  slain  in  the  mighty  sacrifice.  Still  the 
body  of  Hector  lay  on  the  ground,  and  the  men  of  Ilion  sought 
in  vain  to  redeem  it  from  Achilles.  But  Phcebus  Apollo  came 
down  to  guard  it,  and  he  spread  over  it  his  golden  shield  to  keep 
away  all  unseemly  things.  At  last  the  King,  Priam,  mounted 
his  chariot,  for  he  said,  "  Surely  he  will  not  scorn  the  prayer  of 
a  father  when  he  begs  the  body  of  his  son."  Then  Zeus  sent 
Hermes  to  guide  the  old  man  to  the  tent  of  Achilles,  so  that 
none  others  of  the  Achaians  might  see  him.  Then  he  stood  be- 
fore the  man  who  had  slain  his  son,  and  he  kissed  his  hands,  and 
said,  "  Hear  my  prayer,  Achilles.  Thy  father  is  an  old  man 
like  me,  but  he  hopes  one  day  to  see  thee  come  back  with  great 
glory  from  Ilion.  My  sons  are  dead,  and  none  had  braver  sons 
in  Troy  than  I;  and  Hector,  the  flower  and  pride  of  all,  has  been 
smitten  by  thy  spear.  Fear  the  gods,  Achilles,  and  pity  me 
for  the  remembrance  of  thy  father,  for  none  has  ever  dared  like 
me  to  kiss  the  hand  of  the  man  who  has  slain  his  son."  So 
Priam  wept  for  his  dear  child,  Hector,  and  the  tears  flowed  down 
the  cheeks  of  Achilles  as  he  thought  of  his  father,  Peleus,  and 
his  friend,  Patroclus,  and  the  cry  of  their  mourning  went  up  to- 
gether. 

So  the  body  of  Hector  was  borne  back  to  Ilion,  and  a  great 
sacrifice  was  done  to  the  gods  beneath  the  earth,  that  Hector 
might  be  welcomed  in  the  kingdom  of  Hades  and  Persephone. 
But  the  time  drew  nigh  that  the  doom  of  Achilles  must  be 
accomplirhed,  and  the  spear  of  Phcebus  Apollo  pierced  his  heart 
as  they  fought  near  the  Scaean  gates  of  Ilion.  ]n  the  dust  lay 
the  body  of  Achilles,  while  the  Achaians  fought  the  whole  day 
around  it,  till  a  mighty  storm  burst  forth  from  the  heaven. 
Then  they  carried  it  away  to  the  ships,  and  placed  it  on  a  couch, 
and  washed  it  in  pure  water.  And  once  more  from  her  coral 
caves  beneath  the  sea  rose  the  silver-footed  Thetis,  and  the  cry 
of  the  nymphs  who  followed  her  filled  the  air,  so  that  the  Acha- 


734 


LITERATURE. 


ians  who  heard  it  trembled,  and  would  have  fled  to  the  ships, 
but  Nestor,  the  wise  chief  of  the  Pylians,  said,  "  Flee  not,  ye 
A.ro:ives,  tor  those  come  to  mourn  for  the  dead  Achilles." 
So  Thetis  stood  weeping  by  the  body  of  her  child,  and  the 
n\mphs  wrapped  it  in  shining  robes.  Many  days  and  nights 
they  wept  and  watched  around  it,  until  at  last  they  raised  a 
great  pile  of  wood  on  the  sea-shore,  and  the  flame  went  up  to 
heaven.  Then  they  gathered  up  the  ashes,  and  placed  them, 
with  the  ashes  of  Patroclus,  in  a  golden  urn  which  Hephaistos 
wrought  and  gave  to  Dionysus,  and  over  it  they  raised  a  great 
cairn  on  the  shore  of  the  Sea  of  Helle,  that  men  might  see  it 
afar  oft'  as  they  sailed  on  the  broad  waters. 


THE  VEJNQEANCE  OF  ODYg^EUg. 

A  fair  breeze  filled  the  sail  of  the  Phxakian  ship  in  which 
Odysseus  lav  asleep  as  in  the  dreamless  slumber  of  the  dead. 
The  wild  music  of  the  waves'  rose  on  the  air  as  the  bark  sped  on 
its  glistening  pathway,  but  their  murmur  reached  not  the  ear  of 
the  wanderer,  for  the  spell  of  Athene  was  upon  him,  and  all  his 
cares  and  griefs  were  for  a  little  while  forgotten. 

The  dawn  light  was  stealing  across  the  eastern  sky  when 
the  good  ship  rode  into  the  haxen  of  the  sea-god,  Phorkys,  and 
rested  without  anchor  or  cable  beneath  the  rocks  which  keep  off 
the  breath  of  the  harsh  winds.  At  the  head  of  the  little  bay  a 
broad-leaved  olive  tree  spread  its  branches  in  front  of  a  cave 
where  the  sea  n3'mphs  wove  their  beautiful  purple  robes. 
Gently  the  sailors  raised  Odysseus  in  their  arms;  gently  they 
bore  him  from  the  ship,  and  placed  him  on  the  land  with  the 
gifts  which  Alkinous  and  Arete  and  Naosikaa  had  given  to  him 
when  he  set  off  to  go  to  Ithaka.     So  the  Phocakians  went  away, 


THE    VENGKANCK    OF    ODYSSEUS. 


735 


and  Odysseus  rested  once  more  in  his  own  land.  But  when  he 
awoke  from  his  sleep,  he  knew  not  where  he  was,  lor  Athene 
had  spread  a  mist  on  land  and  sea.  The  haven,  the  rocks,  the 
trees,  the  pathways  wore  a  strange  look  in  the  dim  and  gloomy 
light;  but  while  Odysseus  yet  pondered  where  he  should  stow 
awa}'  the  gifts  lest  thieves  should  find  them,  there  stood  before 
him  a  glorious  form,  and  he  heard  a  voice,  which  said,  "  Dost 
thou  not  know^  me,  Od3^sseus.'^  I  am  Pallas  Athene,  who  have 
stood  by  thy  side  to  guard  thee  in  all  thy  w^anderings  and  deliver 


Menelaus.  Paris.  Diomedes.        Odysseus.  Ne^to?:        Achilles. 

HEROES   OF  THE   TUOJAN    WAR. 


Agamemnon. 


thee  from  all  thy  enemies.  And  now  that  thou  standest  again 
on  thine  own  land  of  Ithaka,  I  have  come  to  thee  once  more,  to 
bid  thee  make  ready  for  the  great  vengeance,  and  to  bear  with 
patience  all  that  may  befall  thee  until  the  hour  be  come."  But 
Odysseus  could  scarcely  believe  that  he  was  in  Ithaka,  even 
though  it  was  Athene  who  spake  to  him,  until  she  scattered  the 
mist  and  showed  him  the  fair  haven  with  its  broad-spreading 
olive  trees,  and  the  home  of  the  sea  nymphs,  and  the  old  hill  of 
Neritos  with  its  wooded  sides. 


73^ 


LITERATURE. 


Then  they  placed  the  gifts  ol"  the  Phseakians  in  the  cave 
hard  by  the  stream  of  hving  waters  which  flowed  through  it  to 
the  sea,  and  Athene  touched  him  with  a  staff,  and  all  the  beauty 
of  his  form  was  gone.  His  face  became  seamed  with  wrinkles, 
his  flashing  eves  grew  dim,  and  the  golden  locks  vanished  from 
his  shoulders.  His  glistening  raiment  turned  to  noisome  rags, 
as  Athene  put  a  beggar's  wallet  on  his  shoulder  and  placed  a 
walking  stafl'  in  liis  hand,  and  showed  him  the  path  which  led  to 
the  house  of  the  swineherd  Eumaius. 

So  Odysseus  went  his  way,  but  when  he  entered  the  court- 
yard of  Eumaius  in  his  tattered  raiment,  the  dogs  flew  at  him 
with  loud  barkings,  until  the  swineherd  drove  them  away,  and 
led  the  stranger  into  his  dwelling,  where  he  placed  a  shaggy 
goat-skin  for  him  to  lie  on.  ''  Thou  hast  welcomed  me  kindly," 
said  Odysseus,  "  the  gods  grant  thee  in  return  thy  heart's  de- 
sire.'" Then  Eumaius  answered  sadly,  "My  friend,  I  may  not 
despise  a  stranger  though  he  be  even  poorer  and  meaner  than 
myself,  for  it  is  Zeus  who  sends  to  us  the  poor  man  and  the 
beggar.  Little  indeed  have  I  to  give,  for  so  it  is  with  bondmen, 
when  the  young  chiefs  lord  it  in  the  land.  But  he  is  far  away 
who  loved  me  well  and  gave  me  all  my  substance.  I  would  that 
the  whole  kindred  of  Helen  had  been  uprooted  from  the  earth, 
for  it  was  for  her  sake  that  my  master  went  to  fight  with  the 
Trojans  at  Ilion." 

Then  Eumaius  placed  meat  and  wine  before  him.  "  It  is 
but  a  homely  meal,""  he  said,  "  and  a  poor  draught,  but  the 
chiefs  who  throng  about  my  master's  wife  eat  all  the  fat  of  the 
land.  A  brave  life  they  have  of  it,  for  rich  were  the  treasures 
which  my  master  left  in  his  house  when  he  went  to  take  ven- 
geance for  the  wrongs  of  Helen."  "  Tell  me  thy  master's  name, 
friend,''  said  the  stranger.  ''  If  he  was  indeed  so  rich  and  great, 
I  may  perhaps  be  able  to  tell  you  something  about  him,  for  I 
have  been  a  wanderer  in  manv  lands."     "  Whv.  what  would  be 


THE    VENGEANCE    OF    ODYSSEUS.  737 

the  use?"  answered  the  swineherd.  "Many  a  vagabond  comes 
here  with  trumped-up  tales  to  my  master's  wife,  who  listens  to 
them  greedil}^,  hoping  against  hope.  No,  he  must  long  ago  have 
died;  but  we  love  Odysseus  still,  and  we  call  him  our  friend, 
though  he  is  very  far  away."  "Nay,  but  thou  art  wrong  this 
time,"  said  the  stranger,  "  for  I  do  know  Odysseus,  and  I  swear 
to  thee  that  the  sun  shall  not  finish  his  journey  through  the 
heavens  before  thy  lord  returns."  But  Eumaius  shook  his  head. 
"  I  have  nothing  to  give  3''ou  for  your  news.  Sure  I  am  that 
Od}'sseus  will  not  come  back.  Say  no  more  about  him,  for  my 
heart  is  pained  when  any  make  me  call  to  mind  the  friend  whom 
I  have  lost.  But  what  is  3'our  name,  friend,  and  whence  do  you 
come.^" 

Then  Odysseus  was  afraid  to  reveal  himself,  so  he  told  him  a 
long  story  how  he  had  come  from  Crete,  and  been  made  a  slave 
in  Egypt,  how  after  many  years  Phoinix  had  led  him  to  the 
purple  land,  how  Pheidon,  the  chief  of  the  Thesprotians,  had 
showed  him  the  treasures  of  Odysseus,  and  how  at  last  he  had 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  robbers,  who  had  clothed  him  in  beggarly 
rags  and  left  him  on  the  shore  of  Ithaka.  But  still  Eumaius 
would  not  believe.  "  I  can  not  trust  your  tale,  my  friend,  when 
you  tell  me  that  Odysseus  has  sojourned  in  the  TheSprotian  land. 
I  have  had  enough  of  such  news  since  an  ^olian  came  and 
told  me  that  he  had  seen  him  in  Crete  with  Idomeneus,  mending- 
the  ships  which  had  been  hurt  by  a  storm,  and  that  he  would 
come  again  to  his  home  before  that  summer  was  ended.  Many 
a  year  has  passed  since,  and  if  I  welcome  you  still,  it  is  not  for 
your  false  tidings  about  my  master.  "  Well,"  said  Odysseus, 
"  I  will  make  a  covenant  with  you.  If  he  returns  this  year,  you 
shall  clothe  me  in  sound  garments  and  send  me  home  to  Douli- 
chion,  if  he  does  not,  bid  thy  men  hurl  me  from  the  cliffs,  that 
beggars  may  learn  not  to  tell  lies."  "  Nay,  how  can  I  do  that," 
said  Eumaius,  "when  you  have  eaten  bread  in  my  house  .^  Would 
47 


73« 


LITERATURE. 


Zeus  ever  hear  my  prayer  again?     Tell  me  no  more  false  tales, 
and  let  us  talk  together  as  Iriends.''' 

Meanwhile  Telemachus  was  tar  away  in  Sparta,  whither  he 
had  gone  to  seek  his  lather,  Od}-sseus,  if  hapl}'  he  might  find 
him;  and  one  night  as  he  lay  sleepless  on  his  couch,  Athene 
stood  before  him  and  warned  him  to  hasten  home.  "  The 
suitors  are  eating  up  thy  substance,  and  they  lie  in  wait  that 
they  may  slay  thee  before  the  ship  reaches  Ithaka;  but  the  gods 
who  ofuard  thee  will  deliver  thee  from  them,  and  when  thou 
comest  to  the  land,  go  straightway  to  the  house  of  Eumaius. 

Then  in  the  morning  Telemachus  bade  farewell  to  Menelaus, 
and  the  fair-haired  Helen  placed  in  his  hands  a  beautiful  robe 
\vhich  her  own  fingers  had  wTought.  "  Take  it,"  she  said,  "  as 
a  memorial  of  Helen,  and  give  it  to  thy  bride  when  thy  mar- 
riage day  has  come.''  So  they  set  ofl:'  from  Sparta,  and  came 
to  Pylos,  and  there,  as  Telemachus  offered  sacrifice,  the  wise 
seer  Theoklymenus  stood  by  his  side,  and  asked  him  of  his  name 
and  race,  and  when  he  knew  that  he  was  the  son  of  Odysseus 
he  besought  Telemachus  to  take  him  with  him  to  the  ship,  for  he 
had  slain  a  man  in  Argos  and  he  was  flying  from  the  avenger  of 
blood.*  So  Theoklymenus,  the  seer,  came  with  Telemachus  to 
Ithaka. 

Then  again  Odysseus  made  trial  of  the  friendship  of  Eumai- 
us, and  when  the  meal  was  over,  he  said,  "  To-morrow,  early  in 
the  morning,  I  must  go  to  the  house  of  Odysseus.  Therefore, 
Jet  some  one  guide  me  thither.  It  may  be  that  Penelope  will 
listen  to  my  tidings,  and  that  the  suitors  will  give  alms  to  the 
old  man.  For  I  can  serve  well,  my  friends,  and  none  can  light 
a  fire  and  heap  on  wood,  or  hand  a  winecup,  more  deftly  than 
myself."  But  Eumaius  was  angry,  and  said  sharply,  "  Why  not 
tarry  here.'*  You  annoy  neither  mc  nor  my  friends,  and  when 
Odysseus  comes  home,  be  sure  he  will  give  3'ou  coat  and  cloak 
and  all  else  that  you  may  need."     And  the  beggar   said,   "  God 


THE    VENGEANCE    OF    ODYSSEUS.  739 

reward  thee,  good  friend,  for  succoring  the  stranger,"  and  he 
asked  him  if  the  father  and  mother  of  Odysseus  were  yet  alive. 
Then  Eumaius  told  him  how  his  mother  had  pined  away  and 
died  after  Odysseus  went  to  Ilion,  and  how  Laertes  lingered  on 
in  a  wretched  and  squalid  old  age. 

But  the  ship  of  Telemachus  had  now  reached  the  land,  and 
he  sent  some  of  his  men  to  tell  Penelope  that  her  son  was  come 
back,  while  he  himself  went  to  the  house  of  Eumaius.  Glad 
indeed  was  the  swineherd  to  see  him,  for  he  had  not  thought  to 
look  upon  his  face  again.  And  Telemachus  said,  "  Is  my  mother 
yet  in  her  home,  or  has  she  wedded  another,  and  is  the  bridal 
couch  of  Odysseus  covered  with  the  webs  of  spiders?''  Nay, 
she  is  still  in  her  home,"  said  Eumaius;  "  but  night  and  day  she 
sheds  bitter  tears  in  her  grievous  sorrow."  Then  Telemachus 
spied  the  beggar;  and  when  he  learned  his  story  from  Eumaius, 
he  was  troubled.  "What  can  we  do  with  him.^  Shall  I  orive 
him  a  cloak  and  a  sword  and  send  him  away.^  I  am  afraid  to 
take  him  to  my  father's  house,  for  the  suitors  may  flout  and  jeer 
him."  Then  the  beggar  put  in  his  word:  "  Truly  these  suitors 
meet  us  at  every  turn.  How  comes  it  all  about  .^  Do  you  yield 
to  them  of  your  own  free  will,  or  do  the  people  hate  you,  or 
have  you  a  quarrel  with  your  kinsfolk.?  If  these  withered  arms 
of  mine  had  but  the  strength  of  their  youth,  soon  should  some 
of  these  suitors  smart  for  their  misdeeds;  and  if  their  numbers 
were  too  great  for  me  to  deal  with,  better  so  to  die  than  see 
them  thus  devour  the  land."  "  Nay,  friend,  your  guesses  are 
wrong,"  said  Telemachus.  "  The  people  do  not  hate  me,  and  I 
have  no  feud  with  my  kindred;  but  these  suitors  have  swarmed 
in  upon  us  like  bees  from  all  the  country  round  about." 

Presently  Eumaius  rose  up  to  go  with  tidings  to  Penelope, 
and  when  he  was  gone  a  glorious  form  stood  before  the  door, 
but  the  eyes  only  of  Od3'sseus  saw  her,  and  he  knew  that  it  was 
Pallas  Athene.     "The  time  is  come,"  she  said ;"  show  thyself 


740  LITERATURE. 

to  Telemachus  and  make  ready  with  him  for  the  great  ven- 
geance." Then  Athene  passed  her  golden  statf  over  his  body, 
and  straiofhtwav  his  tattered  raiment  became  a  white  and  o^Hsten- 
ino-  robe.  Once  more  the  hue  of  youth  came  back  to  his  cheek 
and  the  golden  locks  flowed  down  over  his  shoulders,  so  that 
Telemachus  marveled,  and  said,  ''  Who  art  thou,  stranger,  that 
thou  lookcst  like  one  of  the  bright  gods?  But  now  thy  garment 
was  torn,  and  thy  hands  shook  with  age."  "  Nay,  I  am  no  god," 
answered  the  man  of  many  toils  and  sorrows,  "I  am  thy  father." 
Then  Od3'sseus  kissed  his  son,  and  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheek, 
but  Telemachus  would  not  believe.  ''  Men  change  not  thus,"  he 
said,  "  from  age  to  youth,  from  squalor  and  weakness  to  strength 
and  splendor."  "  It  is  the  work  of  Athene,"  said  the  stranger, 
"  who  can  make  all  things  fresh  and  fair,  and  if  I  be  not  Odys- 
seus, none  other  will  ever  come  to  Ithaka."  Then  Telemachus 
put  his  arms  around  his  father  and  wept,  and  the  cry  of  their 
weeping  went  up  together,  and  Odysseus  said,  "  The  time  for 
vengeance  draws  nigh.  How  many  are  these  suitors.^"  "  They 
may  be  told  by  scores,"  said  Telemachus,  "  and  what  are  two 
against  so  many?"  "They  are  enough,"  answered  Odysseus, 
"  if  only  Zeus  and  Athene  be  on  their  side." 

Then  Telemachus  went  to  the  house  of  Odysseus,  where  the 
suitors  were  greatly  cast  down  because  their  messengers  had  not 
been  able  to  kill  him.  And  Penelope  came  forth  from  her 
chamber,  beautiful  as  Artemis  and  Aphrodite,  and  she  kissed 
her  son,  who  told  her  how  he  had  journeyed  to  Sparta,  seeking 
in  vain  for  his  father.  But  Theokl3'menus,  the  seer,  put  in  a 
word,  and  said,  "  Odysseus  is  now  in  Ithaka,  and  is  making 
ready  for  the  day  of  the  great  vengeance." 

Presently  Eumaius  went  back  to  his  house,  and  there  he 
found  the  beggar,  for  Odysseus  had  laid  aside  his  glistening  robe 
and  the  glory  of  youth  had  faded  away  again  from  his  face.  So 
they  went  to  the  city  together,  and  sat  by  the  beautiful  fountain, 


THE    VENGEANCE    OF    ODYSSEUS.  74 1 

whither  the  people  came  to  draw  water,  and  Melanthius,  the 
goatherd,  as  he  drove  the  flock  for  the  suitors,  spied  them  out 
and  reviled  them.  "  Thieves  love  thieves,  they  say;  where  hast 
thou  found  this  vagabond,  friend  swineherd?"  and  he  pushed 
Odysseus  with  his  heel.  Then  Odysseus  was.  wroth,  and  would 
have  slain  him,  but  he  restrained  himself,  and  Eumaius  prayed 
aloud  to  the  nymphs  that  they  would  bring  his  master  home. 
And  Melanthius  said,  "  Pray  on,  as  thou  wilt,  but  Telemachus 
shall  soon  lie  low,  for  Odysseus  shall  see  Ithaka  no  more."  Then 
he  drove  the  goats  onwards  to  the  house  of  Odysseus,  and 
Eumaius  and  the  beggar  followed  him,  and  as  they  communed 
by  the  way,  the  swineherd  bade  him  go  first  into  the  house,  lest 
any  finding  him  without  might  jeer  or  hurt  him.  But  the  beg- 
gar would  not.  "  Many  a  hard  buffet  have  I  had  by  land  and 
by  sea,"  he  said,  "  and  I  am  not  soon  cast  down."  Soon  they 
stood  before  the  door,  and  a  dog  worn  with  age  strove  to  rise 
and  welcome  him,  but  his  strength  was  gone,  and  Odysseus  wept 
when  he  saw  his  hound,  Argos,  in  such  evil  plight.  Then,  turn- 
ing to  Eumaius,  he  said,  "  The  hound  is  comely  in  shape.  Was 
he  swift  and  strong  in  his  youth  .^"  "  Never  anything  escaped 
him  in  the  chase;  but  there  are  none  to  care  for  him  now."  It 
mattered  not,  for  the  twenty  long  years  had  come  to  an  end, 
and  when  Argos  had  once  more  seen  his  master,  he  sank  down 
upon  the  straw  and  died. 

Then  Odysseus  passed  into  his  house,  and  he  stood  a  beggar 
in  his  own  hall,  and  asked  an  alms  from  Antinous.  "  Give," 
said  he,  "for  thou  lookest  like  a  King,  and  I  will  spread  abroad 
thy  name  through  the  wide  earth.  For  I,  too,  was  rich  once, 
and  had  a  glorious  home,  and  often  I  succored  the  wanderer;  but 
Zeus  took  away  all  my  wealth,  and  drove  me  forth  to  Cyprus 
and  to  Egypt."  But  Antinous  thrust  him  aside.  "What  pest 
is  this?"  he  said.  "  Stand  off,  old  man,  or  thou  shalt  go  again 
to  an  Egypt  and  a  C3'prus  which  shall  not  be  much  to  thy  lik- 


742 


LITERATURE. 


ino-."  Then  Anfinous  struck  him  on  the  back;  but  Odysseus 
stood  firm  as  a  rock,  and  he  shook  his  head  for  the  vengeance 
that  was  cominij^.  But  the  others  were  angry,  and  said,  "  Thou 
hast  done  an  evil  deed,  if  indeed  there  be  a  god  in  heaven;  nay,' 
often  in  the  guise  of  strangers  the  gods  themselves  go  through 
the  earth,  watching  the  evil  and  the  good." 

When  the  tidings  were  brought  to  Penelope,  she  said  to 
Eumaius,  "  Go  call  me  this  stranger  hither,  for  he  may  have 
something  to  tell  me  of  Odysseus."  But  the  beggar  would  not 
go  then.  "  Tell  her,"  he  said,  "  that  I  know  her  husband  well, 
and  that  I  have  shared  his  troubles;  but  I  can  not  talk  with  her 
before  the  sun  goes  down.     At  eventide  she  shall  see  me." 

Then,  as  Odysseus  sate  in  the  hall,  there  came  up  to  him 
the  beggar  Arnaius,  whom  the  suitors  called  Iros  because  he  was 
their  messenger,  and  he  said,  "  Get  up,  old  man,  and  go,  for  the 
chiefs  have  bidden  me  to  cast  thee  out;  yet  I  would  rather  see 
thee  depart  of  thy  own  will."  But  Odysseus  said,  "  Nay,  friend, 
there  is  room  enough  here  lor  both  of  us.  You  are  a  beggar 
like  me,  and  let  us  pray  the  gods  to  help  us;  but  la}^  not  thine 
hand  upon  me,  lest  I  be  angry  and  smite  thee;  for  if  I  do,  thou 
wilt  not,  I  take  it,  care  to  come  again  to  the  house  of  Odysseus, 
the  son  of  Laertes."  But  Iros  looked  scornfully  at  him,  and 
said,  "  Hear  how  the  vagabond  talks,  just  like  an  old  furnace 
woman.  Come  now,  and  gird  up  thyself,  and  let  us  see  which 
is  the  stronger."  Then  Aptinous,  who  had  heard  them  quarrel- 
ing, smiled  pleasantly  and  called  to  the  other  suitors:  "See 
here,  the  stranger  and  Iros  are  challenging  each  other.  Let  us 
brinsT  them  tosfcther  and  look  on."  But  Iros  shrank  back  in  fear 
as  the  beggar  arose,  and  only  one  feeble  blow  had  he  given, 
when  Odysseus  dashed  him  to  the -ground.  Then  all  the  suitors 
held  up  their  hands  and  almost  died  with  laughter,  as  the 
stranger  dragged  Iros  from  the  hall,  and  said,  "  Meddle  not 
more  with  other  men's  matters,  lest  a  worse   thing  befall  thee." 


THE    VENGEANCE    OF    ODYSSEUS.  743 

Then  Odysseus  gathered  up  his  tattered  garment  and  went  and 
sat  down  again  upon  the  threshold,  while  the  suitors  praised  him 
with  loud  cheers  tor  his  exploit,  and  Amphinomus  held  out  to 
him  a  goblet  of  rosy  wine:  "  Drink,  stranger,  and  ma3-est  thou 
have  good  luck  in  time  to  come,  for  now  thy  lot  is  hard  and 
gloomy  enough."  The  kindly  words  stirred  the  beggar's  heart, 
and  he  said,  "  Hear  my  counsel,  Amphinomus,  and  trust  me 
who  have  borne  many  griefs  and  sorrows  and  wandered  in  many 
lands  since  Zeus  drove  me  from  my  home.  Depart  from  these 
evil  men  who  are  wasting  another's  substance  and  heed  not  the 
woes  that  are  coming,  when  Odysseus  shall  once  more  stand  in 
his  father's  house."  But  Amphinomus  would  not  hear,  for  so 
had  Athene  doomed  that  he  should  fall  on  the  day  of  the  great 
vengeance. 

So,  laughing  at  the  beggar  as  he  sat  quietly  on  the  threshold, 
the  suitors  feasted  at  the  banquet  table  of  Odysseus,  till  the  stars 
looked  forth  in  the  sky.  But  when  they  were  gone  away  to 
sleep,  Odysseus  bade  Telemachus  gather  up  their  arms  and  place 
them  in  the  inner  chamber.  And  they  carried  in  the  spears  and 
shields  and  helmets,  while  Athene  went  before  with  a  g-olden 
lamp  in  her  hand  to  light  the  way.  And  Telemachus  said, 
"  Surely  some  one  of  the  blessed  gods  must  be  here,  my  father, 
for  walls,  beams  and  pillars  all  gleam  as  though  they  were  full  of 
eyes  of  blazing  fire."  But  Odysseus  bade  him  be  silent  and 
sleep,  and  Telemachus  went  his  way,  and  Od3'sseus  tarried  to 
take  counsel  with  Athene  for  the  work  of  the  comincr  vengeance. 

Then,  as  he  sat  alone  in  the  hall,  Penelope  came  forth  from 
her  chamber,  to  hear  what  the  stranger  might  tell  her  of  Odys- 
seus. But  before  she  spake,  Melantho  reviled  him  as  her  father, 
Melanthius,  had  reviled  him  by  the  fountain,  and  Odysseus  said, 
"  Dost  thou  scorn  me  because  my  garments  are  torn  and  my  face 
is  seamed  with  age  and  sorrow?  Well,  I,  too,  have  been  young 
and  strong.     See,  then,  that  the  change  come  not  on  thee  when 


744 


LITERATURE. 


Odysseus  returns  to  his  home."  Then  Penelope  asked  him 
straii^litly,  "  Who  art  thou,  stranger,  and  whence  hast  thou 
come?"  And  the  beggar  said,  "Ask  me  not,  for  I  have  had 
grievous  troubles,  and  the  thought  of  all  ni}-  woes  will  force 
the  tears  into  my  eyes,  so  that  ye  may  think  I  am  mad  with 
misery."  But  Penelope  urged  him:  "  Listen  to  me,  old  man. 
INIy  beauty  faded  away  when  Odysseus  left  me  to  go  to  Ilion, 
and  my  life  has  been  full  of  woe  since  the  suitors  came  thronging 
round  me,  because  my  husband,  as  they  said,  lived  no  more  upon 
the  earth.  So  I  prayed  tiiem  to  let  me  weave  a  shroud  for 
Laertes,  and  every  night  I  undid  the  web  which  I  had  woven  in 
the  day  time.  Thus  three  years  passed  away,  but  in  the  Iburth 
the  suitors  found  out  my  trick,  and  I  know  not  how  to  avoid 
longer  the  marriage  which  I  hate.  Wherefore  tell  me  who  thou 
art,  for  thou  didst  not  spring  forth  a  full-grown  man  from  a  tree 
or  a  stone."  Then  Odysseus  recounted  to  her  the  tale  which  he 
had  told  to  the  swineherd,  Eumaius,  and  the  eyes  of  Penelope 
were  filled  with  tears  as  the  stranger  spoke  of  the  exploits  of 
Odysseus.  "Good  friend,"  she  said,  "thy  kindl}'  words  fall 
soothingly  on  my  ear.  Here  shalt  thou  sojourn,  and  I  will  give 
thee  a  robe  which  I  had  meant  for  him  who  will  come  back  to 
me  no  more."  But  Odysseus  would  not  take  it,  and  he  strove 
to  comfort  her,  till  at  the  last  he  swore  to  her  that  before  the 
year's  end  her  husband  should  stand  before  her. 

And  now,  at  the  bidding  of  Penelope,  his  old  nurse,  Eury- 
kleia,  came  with  water  to  wash  his  feet,  and  looking  hard  at 
him  she  said,  "  Many  a  stranger  has  come  to  this  house,  but 
never  one  so  like  in  form  and  voice  to  my  child,  Odysseus,  and 
the  stranger  answered,  smiling,  "  Most  folk  who  have  seen  us 
both  have  marked  the  likeness."  So  she  knelt  down  to  wash 
his  feet,  but  Odysseus  turned  himself  as  much  as  he  could  from 
the  fire,  for  he  feared  that  she  might  see  the  mark  of  the  wound 
which  the  boar's  tusk  had  made  long  ago  when  he  went  to  Par- 


THE    VENGEANCE    OF    ODYSSEUS. 


745 


nassus.     But  he  strove  in  vain.     For  presentl}^  she  saw  the  scar, 
and  she  let  go  his  feet,  and  the  water  was  spilt  upon  the  ground, 


AKCIENT   METAL   ENGRAVING. 


as  she  cried  out,  "It  is  Odysseus,  and  I  knew  him   not  until  I 
saw  the  print  of  the  deadly  wound  which  Autolykus  healed  by 


746 


LITERATURE. 


his  wondrous  power.''  Then  Odysseus  bade  her  be  silent,  for 
Athene  had  dulled  the  ear  of  Penelope  that  she  might  not  hear, 
and  he  would  not  that  any  should  know  that  the  chieftain  had 
come  back  to  his  home. 

So  all  were  gone,  and  Odysseus  alone  remained  in  the  hall 
through  the  still  hours  of  night.  But  when  the  morning  came, 
the  suitors  again  feasted  at  the  banquet  board,  and  many  a  time 
they  reviled  the  beggar  and  Telcmachus,  until  Penelope  brought 
forth  the  bow  which  Iphitus,  the  son  of  Eurytus,  had  given  to 
Odysseus.  Then  she  stood  before  the  chiefs  and  said,  "  Who- 
ever of  you  can  bend  this  bow,  that  man  shall  be  my  husband, 
and  with  him  I  will  leave  the  home  which  I  have  loved,  and 
which  I  shall  still  see  in  my  dreams."  But  when  Antinous  saw 
it,  his  heart  failed  him,  for  he  knew  that  none  had  ever  bent  the 
bow  save  Odysseus  only,  and  he  warned  the  suitors  that  it  would 
sorely  tax  their  strength.  Then  Telemachus  would  have  made 
trial  of  the  bow,  but  his  father  suffered  him  not.  So  Leiodes 
took  it  in  his  hand,  and  tried  in  vain  to  stretch  it,  till  at  last  he 
threw  it  down  in  a  rage,  and  said,  "  Penelope  must  find  some 
other  husband;  for  I  am  not  the  man."  But  Antinous  reviled 
him  for  his  faintheartedness,  and  made  Melanthius  bring  fat  to 
anoint  the  bow  and  make  it  supple;  yet  even  thus  the}^  strove  in 
vain  to  stretch  it. 

Then  Odysseus  went  out  into  the  courtyard,  whither  the 
cowherd  and  the  swineherd  had  gone  before  him,  and  he  said  to 
them,  "  Friends,  are  ye  minded  to  aid  Odysseus  if  he  should 
suddenly  come  to  his  home,  or  will  ye  take  part  with  the  men 
who  devour  his  substance?"  And  they  sware  both  of  them  that 
they  would  fight  for  their  master  to  the  death.  Then  Odysseus 
said,  "  I  am  that  man,  who  after  grievous  woes  has  come  back 
in  the  twentieth  year  to  his  own  land;  and  if  ye  doubt,  see  here 
is  the  scar  of  the  wound  where  the  boar's  tusk  pierced  my  flesh, 
when  I  went  to  Parnassus   in   the  days  of  my  youth."     When 


THE    VENGEANCE    OF    ODYSSEUS.  747 

they  saw  the  scar,  they  threw  their  arms  round  Odysseus,  and 
they  kissed  him  on  his  head  and  his  shoulders  and  wept,  until  he 
said,  "  Stay,  friends,  lest  any  see  us  and  tell  the  suitors  in  the 
house.  And  now  hearken  to  me.  These  men  will  not  let  me 
take  the  bow;  so  do  thou,  Eumaius,  place  it  in  my  hands,  and 
let  Philoitius  bar  the  gates  of  the  court-yard."  But  within  the 
hall  Eurymachus  groaned  with  vexation  because  he  could  not 
stretch  the  bow;  and  he  said,  "  It  is  not  that  I  care  for  Penelope, 
for  there  are  many  Achaian  women  as  fair  as  she;  but  that  we 
are  all  so  weak  in  comparison  of  Odysseus."  Then  the  beggar 
besought  them  that  he,  too,  might  try,  and  see  whether  the 
strength  of  his  youth  still  remained  to  him,  or  whether  his  long 
wanderings  had  taken  away  the  force  of  his  arm.  But  Antinous 
said,  "  Old  man,  wine  hath  done  thee  harm;  still  it  is  well  to 
drink  yet  more  than  to  strive  with  men  who  are  thy  betters." 
Then  said  Penelope,  "What  dost  thou  fear,  Antinous?  Vex 
not  thyself  with  the  thought  that  the  beggar  will  lead  me  away 
as  his  bride,  even  if  he  should  be  able  to  stretch  the  bow  of 
Odysseus."  "Nay,  lady,"  he  answered,  "is  is  not  that;  but  I 
dread  lest  the  Achaians  should  say,  '  The  suitors  could  not 
stretch  the  bow,  but  there  came  a  wandering  beggar,  who  did 
what  they  strove  to  do  in  vain.'  " 

Then  the  swineherd  took  up  the  bow,  but  the  suitors  bade 
him  lay  it  down  again,  until  at  last  Telemachus  told  Eumaius  to 
bear  it  to  Odysseus;  and  as  the  swineherd  placed  it  in  the  beg- 
gar's hands,  Eurykleia  shut  the  doors  of  the  hall  and  made  them 
fast  with  the  tackling  of  a  ship.  Then,  as  Odysseus  raised  the 
bow,  the  thunder  pealed  in  the  heaven,  and  his  heart  rejoiced 
because  Zeus  had  given  him  a  sign  of  his  great  victory.  Pres- 
entl}^  the  arrow  sped  from  the  string,  and  Antinous  lay  dead 
upon  the  floor. 

Then  the  others  spake  in  great  wrath,  and  said,  "  The  vul- 
tures shall  tear  thy  flesh  this  day,  because   thou  hast   slain   the 


748 


LITERATURE. 


greatest  chief  in  Ithaka."  But  they  knew  not,  as  they  spake 
thus,  that  the  clay  of  the  great  vengeance  was  come;  and  the 
voice  of  Odysseus  was  heard  above  the  uproar,  as  he  said, 
"  Wretches,  did  3'e  fancy  that  I  should  never  stand  again  in  my 
own  hall?  Ye  have  wasted  my  substance,  ye  have  sought  to 
steal  my  wife  from  me,  ye  have  feared  neither  gods  nor  men,  and 
this  is  the  day  of  your  doom."  The  cheeks  of  the  suitors  turned 
ghastly  pale  through  fear;  but  Eurymachus  alone  took  courage 
and  told  Odysseus  that  Antinous  only  had  done  the  mis- 
chief, because  he  wished  to  slay  Telemachus  and  become  King 
in  Ithaka  in  the  stead  of  Odysseus.  "  Spare,  then,  the  rest,  for 
thc\-  are  thy  people,  and  we  will  pay  thee  a  large  ransom.''  But 
Odysseus  looked  sternly  at  him,  and  said,  "  Not  this  house  full 
of  silver  and  gold  shall  stay  my  hand  in  the  day  of  my  great 
vengeance." 

Then  Eurymachus  drew  his  sword  and  bade  his  comrades 
fight  bravely  for  their  lives;  but  again  the  clang  of  the  bow  was 
heard,  and  Eurymachus  was  stretched  lifeless  on  the  earth.  So 
they  fell,  one  after  the  other,  until  the  floor  of  the  hall  was 
slippery  with  blood.  But  presently  the  arrows  in  the  quiver  of 
Odysseus  were  all  spent,  and  la3^ing  his  bow  against  the  wall,  he 
raised  a  great  shield  on  his  shoulder  and  placed  a  helmet  on  his 
head,  and  took  two  spears  in  his  hand.  Then  Agelaus  called  to 
Melanthius,  "  Go  up  to  the  stair-door  and  shout  to  the  people, 
that  they  may  break  into  the  hall  and  save  us."  But  Melanthius 
said,  "  It  can  not  be,  for  it  is  near  the  gate  of  the  hall,  and  one 
man  may  guard  it  against  a  hundred.  But  I  will  bring  you 
arms,  for  I  know  that  Odysseus  and  his  son  have  stowed  them 
away  in  the  inner  chamber."  Hastily  he  ran  thither  and  brought 
forth  shields  and  spears  and  helmets,  and  the  heart  of  Odysseus 
failed  him  for  fear  as  he  saw  the  suitors  donning  their  armor  and 
brandishing  the  lances.  "Who  has  done  this  .^"  he  asked,  and 
Telemachus  answered,   "It  is   my  fault,  my  father.     I   left  the 


THE    VENGEANCE    OF    ODYSSEUS.  749 

door  ajar,  but  Eumaius  shall  go  and  see  whether  some  of  the 
women  have  given  this  help  to  the  suitors,  or  whether,  as  I  think, 
it  be  Melanthius."  So  Eumaius  and  the  cowherd  placed  them- 
selves on  one  side  of  the  chamber  door,  and  when  Melanthius 
came  forth  with  more  arms  for  the  chieftains,  they  caught  him, 
and  binding  him  with  stout  cords  they  hoisted  him  up  to  the 
beams  and  left  him  dangling  in  the  air.  "  Keep  guard  there, 
Melanthius,  all  night  long  in  thy  airy  hammock,  and  when  the 
golden  Morning  comes  back  from  the  stream  of  Ocean  you  will 
not  fail  to  see  her." 

But  in  the  hall  the  troop  of  suitors  stood  facing  Odysseus 
and  Telemachus  in  deadly  rage,  and  presently  Athene  stood  be- 
fore them  in  the  likeness  of  Mentor.  Then  all  besousfht  her 
help,  and  the  suitors  threatened  her,  and  said,  "  Be  not  led 
astray.  Mentor,  by  the  words  of  Odysseus,  for  if  you  side  with 
him,  we  will  leave  you  neither  house  nor  lands,  wife  nor  children, 
when  we  have  taken  vengeance  for  the  evil  deeds  of  the  son  of 
Laertes."  But  the  wrath  of  Athene  was  kindled  more  fiercely, 
and  she  said,  "Where  is  thy  strength,  Odysseus.^  Many  a  year 
the  Trojans  fell  beneath  the  stroke  of  thy  sword,  and  by  thy 
wisdom  it  was  that  the  Achaians  stormed  the  walls  of  breez}^ 
Ilion.  And  now  dost  thou  stand  trembling  in  thine  own  hall?" 
Then  the  form  of  Mentor  vanished,  and  they  saw  a  swallow  fly 
away  above  the  roof  tree.  In  great  fear  the  suitors  took  council 
together,  and  six  of  them  stood  forth  and  hurled  their  spears  at 
Odysseus  and  Telemachus.  But  all  missed  their  mark  except 
Amphimedon  and  Ktesippus,  and  these  wounded  Telemachus  on 
the  wrist  and  Eumaius  on  the  shoulder. 

But  once  again  Athene  came,  and  this  time  she  held  aloft 
her  awful  ^-^gis  before  the  eyes  of  the  suitors,  and  the  hearts  of 
all  fainted  for  fear,  so  that  they  huddled  together  like  cattle 
which  have  heard  the  lion's  roar,  and  like  cattle  were  they  slain, 
and  the  floor  of  the  hall  was  floated  with  blood. 


750 


LITERATURE. 


So  was  the  slaughter  ended,  and  the  house  of  Odysseus  was 
hushed  in  a  stillness  niore  tearful  than  the  din  of  battle,  for  the 
work  of  the  great  vengeance  was  accomplished. 

But  Penelope  lay  on  her  couch  in  a  sweet  slumber  which 
Athene  had  sent  to  soothe  her  grief,  and  she  heard  not  the  foot- 
steps of  Eurykleia  as  she  hastened  joyously  into  the  chamber. 
"Rise  up,  dear  child,  rise  up.  Thy  heart's  desire  is  come. 
Odysseus  stands  once  more  in  his  own  home,  the  suitors  are 
dead,  and  none  are  left  to  vex  thee."  But  Penelope  could  not 
believe  for  joy  and  fear,  even  when  Eurykleia  told  her  of  the 
mark  of  the  boar's  bite  which  Autolykus  and  his  sons  had 
healed.  "  Let  us  go,  dear  nurse,'.'  she  said,  "  and  see  the  bodies 
of  the  chieftains  and  the  man  who  has  slain  them."  So  she  went 
down  into  the  hall,  and  sate  down  opposite  to  Od3'sseus,  but  she 
spake  no  word,  and  Odysseus  also  sat  silent.  And  Telemachus 
said  to  his  mother,  "  Hast  thou  no  welcome  for  my  father  who 
has  borne  so  many  griefs  since  Zeus  took  him  from  his  home 
twenty  long  years  ago.^" 

And  Penelope  said,  "  My  child,  I  can  not  speak,  for  my 
heart  is  as  a  stone  within  me;  3'et  if  it  be  indeed  Odysseus,  there 
are  secret  signs  by  which  we  shall  know  each  other."  But 
when  she  bade  Eurykleia  make  ready  the  couch  which  lay  outside 
the  bridal  chamber,  Odysseus  asked,  hastily,  "  Who  has  moved 
the  couch  which  I  wrought  with  m}'  own  hands,  when  I  made 
the  chamber  round  the  olive  tree  which  stood  in  the  courtyard.'* 
Scarcely  could  a  mortal  man  move  it,  for  it  was  heavy  with  gold 
and  ivory  and  silver,  and  on  it  I  spread  a  bull's  hide  gleaming 
with  a  purple  dye." 

Then  Penelope  wept  for  joy,  as  she  sprang  into  his  arms; 
for  now  she  knew  that  it  was  indeed  Odysseus  who  had  come 
back  in  the  twentieth  year.  Long  time  they  wept  in  each 
other's  arms;  but  the  keen-e3'ed  Athene  kept  back  the  bright 
and  glistening  horses  of  the  morning,  that  the  day  might  not 
return  too  soon. 


THE    VENGEANCE    OF    ODYSSEUS.  75 1 

Then  the  fair  Eurynome  anointed  Odysseus,  and  clothed 
him  in  a  royal  robe;  and  Athene  brought  back  all  his  ancient 
beauty  as  when  he  went  forth  in  his  youth  to  Ilion.  So  they 
sat  together  in  the  light  of  the  blazing  torches,  and  Penelope 
heard  from  Odysseus  the  story  of  his  griefs  and  wanderings,  and 
she  told  him  of  her  own  sorrows,  while  he  was  far  away  in  Ilion 
avenging  the  wrongs  and  woes  of  Helen.  But  for  all  his  deep 
joy  and  his  calm  peace,  Odysseus  knew  that  here  was  not  the 
place  of  his  rest. 

"  The  time  must  come,"  he  said,  "when  I  must  go  to  the 
land  where  there  is  no  sea;  but  the  seer  who  told  me  of  the 
things  that  are  to  be,  said  that  my  last  hour  should  be  full  of 
light,  and  that  I  should  leave  my  people  happy. 

And  Penelope  said,  "  Yet  we  may  rejoice,  my  husband, 
that  the  hateful  chiefs  are  gone  who  darkened  thy  house  and 
devoured  thy  substance,  and  that  once  again  I  hold  thee  in  my 
arms.  Twenty  years  has  Zeus  grudged  me  this  deep  happiness; 
but  never  has  my  heart  swerved  from  thee,  nor  could  aught  stay 
thee  from  coming  again  to  gladden  my  heart  as  in  the  morning 
of  our  life  and  joy." 


pOLOJ^. 
{6^6  B.  C.) 

REJVIEMBFJANCE    AFTEF^    DEATH. 

Let  not  a  death  unwept,  unhonor'd,  be 
The  melancholy  fate  allotted  me! 
But  those  who  loved  me  living,  when  I  die 
Still  fondly  keep  some  cherish'd  memory. 


752 


LITERATURE. 


TI^UE    HAPPINE^^. 

(By  Solon.) 

The  man  that  boasts  of  golden  stores, 
Of  grain,  that  loads  his  groaning  floors, 
Of  fields  with  freshening  herbage  green, 
Where  bounding  steeds  and  herds  are  seen, 
I  call  not  happier  than  the  swain, 
Whose  limbs  are  sound,  whose  food  is  plain, 
Whose  joys  a  blooming  wife  endears, 
Whose  hours  a  smiling  oflFspring  cheers. 


^OPHOCLEg. 

Sophocles  was  born  at  Athens  B.  C.  495.  His  father, 
though  a  poor  mechanic,  had  the  discrimination  as  well  as  gener- 
osity to  bestow  an  excellent  education  upon  his  son,  whose  great 
powers  began  early  to  unfold  themselves,  and  to  attract  the 
notice  of  the  first  citizens  of  Athens.  Before  he  had  attained 
his  twenty-fifth  year  he  carried  otf  the  prize  in  a  dramatic  con- 
test against  his  senior,  ^schylus,  and  his  subsequent  career  cor- 
responded to  this  splendid  beginning.  He  is  said  to  have  com- 
posed one  hundred  and  twenty  tragedies,  to  have  gained  the 
first  prize  twenty-four  times,  and  on  other  occasions  to  have 
ranked  second  in  the  list  of  competing  poets.  So  excellent  was 
his  conduct,  so  majestic  his  wisdom,  so  exquisite  his  poetical 
capacities,  so  rare  his  skill  in  all  the  fine  arts,  and  so  uninter- 
rupted his  prosperity,  that  the  Greeks  regarded  him  as  the  pecu- 
liar favorite  of  heaven.  He  lived  in  the  first  city  of  Greece,  and 
throughout  her  best  times,  commanding  an  admiration  and  love 
amounting  to  reverence.  He  died  in  extreme  old  age,  without 
disease  and  without  suffering,  and  was  mourned  with  such  a  sin- 


SOPHOCLES. 


753 


cerity  and  depth  of  grief  as  were  manifested  at  the  death  of  no 
other  citizen  of  Athens. 


HERODOTU^. 

Scarcely  more  is  known  of  the  celebrated  historian,  Herod- 
otus, than  of  the  illustrious  poet,  Homer.  He  was  born  in  Asia 
Minor  about  484  B.  C. 

After  being  well  educated  he  commenced  that  course  of 
patient  and  observant  travel  which  was  to  render  his  name  illus- 
trious as  a  philosophic  tourist  and  historian.  The  shores  of  the 
Hellespont,  Scythia,  and  the  Euxine  Sea;  the  Isles  of  the 
^gaean;  Syria,  Egypt,  'Palestine,  Colchis,  the  northern  parts  of 
Africa,  Ecbatana,  and  even  Babylon  were  the  objects  of  his 
unwearied  research.  On  his  return  from  his  travels,  after  about 
twenty  years,  he  settled  for  some  time  at  Samos,  where  he  wrote 
the  nine  books  of  his  travels  in  those  countries. 

The  charm  of  Herodotus'  writings  consists  in  the  earnest- 
ness of  a  man  who  describes  countries  as  an  eye-witness,  and 
events  as  one  accustomed  to  participate  in  them.  The  life,  the 
raciness,  the  vigor  of  an  adventurer  and  a  wanderer,  glow  in 
every  page.  He  has  none  of  the  defining  disquisitions  that  are 
born  of  the  closet.  He  paints  history,  rather  than  descants  on 
it;  he  throws  the  colorings  of  a  mind,  unconsciously  poetic,  over 
all  he  describes.  Now  a  soldier — now  a  priest — now  a  patriot — 
he  is  always  a  poet,  if  rarely  a  philosopher.  He  narrates  like  a 
witness,  unlike  Thucydides,  who  sums  up  like  a  judge.  No 
writer  ever  made  so  beautiful  an  application  of  superstitions  to 
truths.  His  very  credulities  have  a  philosophy  of  their  own; 
and  modern  historians  have  acted  unwisely  in  disdaining  the 
occasional  repetition  even  of  his  fables.     For  if  his  truths  record 

48 


^r.  LITERATURE. 

the  events — his  fables  paint  the  manners  and  the  opinions  of  the 
time;  and  the  last  fill  up  the  history,  of  which  events  are  only 
the  skeleton. 

To  account  for  his  frequent  use  of  dialogue,  and  his  dra- 
matic effects  of  narrative,  we  must  remember  the  tribunal  to 
which  the  work  of  Herodotus  was  subjected.  Ever}'  author,  un- 
consciously to  himself,  consults  tiie  tastes  of  those  he  addresses. 
No  small  coteries  of  scholars,  no  scrupulous  and  critical  inquirers, 
made  the  ordeal  Herodotus  underwent.  His  chronicles  were  not 
dissertations  to  be  coldly  pondered  over,  and  skeptically  conned; 
they  were  read  aloud  at  solemn  festivals  to  listening  thousands; 
the}^  were  to  arrest  the  curiosity — to  amuse  the  impatience — to 
stir  the  wonder  of  a  lively  and  motley  crowd.  Thus  the  histo- 
rian imbibed  naturally  the  spirit  of  the  tale-teller,  as  he  was 
driven  to  embellish  his  history  with  the  romantic  legend — the 
awful  superstition — the  gossipy  anecdote — which  yet  characterize 
the  stories  of  the  popular  and  oral  fictionist  in  the  bazaars  of  the 
Mussulman,  or  on  the  sea-sands  of  Sicily.  Still  it  has  been 
rightly  said,  that  a  judicious  reader  is  not  easily  led  astray  by 
Herodotus  in  important  particulars.  His  descriptions  of  locali- 
ties, of  manners  and  of  customs,  are  singularly  correct;  and 
travelers  can  yet  trace  the  vestiges  of  his  fidelity. 

Few  enlightened  tourists  are  there  who  can  visit  Egypt, 
Greece,  and  the  regions  of  the  East,  without  being  struck  by  the 
accuracy,  with  the  industry,  with  the  patience  of  Herodotus. 
To  record  all  the  facts  substantiated  by  travelers,  illustrated  by 
artists,  and  amplified  by  learned  research,  would  be  almost  im- 
possible; so  abundant,  so  rich,  has  this  golden  mine  been  found, 
that  the  more  its  native  treasures  are  explored,  the  more  valu- 
able do  they  appear.  The  oasis  of  Siwah,  visited  b}'  Browne, 
Hornemann,  Edmonstone,  and  Minutuoli;  the  engravings  of  the 
latter,  demonstrating  the  co-identity  of  the  god  Ammon  and  the 
god  of  Thebes;  the   Egyptain  mode   of  weaving,  confirmed  by 


HERODOTUS.  755 

the  drawings  of  Wilkinson  and  Minutuoli;  the  fountain  of  the 
sun,  visited  by  Belzoni;  one  of  the  stelee  or  pillars  of  Sesostris, 
seen  by  Herodotus  in  Syria,  and  recognized  on  the  road  to  Bey- 
rout  with  the  hieroglyphic  of  Remeses  still  legible ;  the  kneading 
of  dough,  drawn  from  a  sculpture  in  Thebes,  by  Wilkinson;  the 
dress  of  the  lower  classes,  by  the  same  author;  the  prodigies  of 
Egyptian  architecture  at  Edfou;  Caillaud's  discovery  of  Meroe 
in  the  depths  of  ^Ethiopia;  these,  and  a  host  of  brilliant  evi- 
dences, center  their  once  divergent  rays  in  one  flood  of  light 
upon  the  temple  of  genius  reared  by  Herodotus,  and  display  the 
goddess  of  Truth  enshrined  within. 

The  following  are  the  main  subjects  of  his  nine  books,  which 
were  named  after  the  nine  muses: — 

Book  I.  Clio. — Transfer  ot  the  Lydian  Kingdom  from 
Gyges  to  Crcesus — minority  of  Cyrus — his  overthrow  of  the 
Lydian  power — rising  greatness  of  Athens  and  Lacedsemon. 

Book  11.  Euterpe. — Dissertation  on  Egypt — Egyptian  cus- 
toms, and  the  regal  succession  of  that  Empire. 

Book  III.  Thalia.— Achievements  of  Cambyses — his  total 
subjugation  of  Egypt — election  of  Darius  Hystaspes  to  the  Per- 
sian throne,  then  vacant  by  the  assassination  of  Smerdis,  the  im- 
postor. 

Book  IV.  Melpomene. — Full  narrative  of  the  calamitous 
expeditions  of  the  Persians  against  the  Scythians  in  the  reign  of 
Darius  Hystaspes. 

Book  V.  Terpsichore. — The  political  progress  of  Lace- 
daemon,  Athens  and  Corinth — view  of  their  relative  resources 
during  the  time  of  Darius — expulsion  of  Hippias  from  Athens. 

Book  VI.  Erate. — Origin  of  the  Kings  of  Lacedsemon — - 
causes  of  Darius'  hostility  to  Greece— first  Persian  invasion  of 
Hellas — battle  of  Marathon. 

Book  VII.  Polyhymnia. — Preparations  and  grand  expedi- 
tion of  Xerxes  into  Greece — battle  at  Thermopylae. 


756 


LITERATURE. 


Book  VIII.  Urania. — Further  progress  of  the  Persian 
arms — Athens  captured  and  burned — defeat  of  the  Persians  at 
the  sea-fight  of  Salamis. 

Book  IX.  Calliope. — Defeat  of  the  Persians  at  Plataia — 
defeat  at  tlie  promontory  of  Mycale,  and  their  complete  retreat 
within  their  own  territories. 


THZ:    CROCODILE. 

(By  Jlerodolus.) 

The  following  are  the  peculiarities  of  the  crocodile :  During 
the  winter  months  they  eat  nothing;  they  are  four-footed,  and 
live  indit^erently  on  land  or  in  the  water.  The  female  lays  and 
hatches  her  eggs  ashore,  passing  the  greater  portion  of  the  day 
on  dry  land,  but  at  night  retiring  to  the  river,  the  water  of 
which  is  warmer  than  the  night-air  and  the  dew.  Of  all  known 
animals  this  is  the  one  which  from  the  smallest  size  grows  to  be 
the  greatest,  for  the  egg  of  the  crocodile  is  but  little  bigger  than 
that  of  the  goose,  and  the  young  crocodile  is  in  proportion  to  the 
egg^  yet  when  it  is  full  grown,  the  animal  measures  frequently 
seventeen  cubits,  and  even  more.  It  has  the  eyes  of  a  pig,  teeth 
large  and  tusk-like,  of  a  size  proportioned  to  its  frame;  unlike 
any  other  animal,  it  is  without  a  tongue;  it  can  not  move  its 
under-jaw,  and  in  this  respect,  too,  it  is  singular,  being  the  only 
animal  in  the  world  which  moves  the  upper-jaw  but  not  the 
under.  It  has  strong  claws  and  a  scaly  skin,  impenetrable  upon 
the  back.  In  the  water  it  is  blind,  but  on  land  it  is  very  keen  of 
sight.  As  it  lives  chiefly  in  the  river,  it  has  the  inside  of  its 
mouth  constantly  covered  with  leeches,  hence  it  happens  that,  while 
all  the  other,  birds  and  beasts  avoid  it,  with  the  trochilus  it  lives  at 
peace,  since  it  owes  much  to  that  bird,  for  the  crocodile,  when 
he  leaves  the  water  and  comes  out  upon  the  land,  is  in  the  habit 


THE    CROCODILE.  757 

of  lying  with  his  mouth  wide  open,  facing  the  western  breeze; 
at  such  times  the  trochilus  goes  into  his  mouth  and  devours  the 
leeches.  This  benefits  the  crocodile,  who  is  pleased,  and  takes 
care  not  to  hurt  the  trochilus. 

The  crocodile  is  esteemed  sacred  by  some  of  the  Egyptians, 
by  others  he  is  treated  as  an  enemy.  Those  who  live  near 
Thebes,  and  those  who  dwell  around  Lake  Mceris,  regard  them 
with  especial  veneration.  In  each  of  these  places  they  keep 
one  crocodile  in  particular,  who  is  taught  to  be  tame  and  tract- 
able. They  adorn  his  ears  with  ear-rings  of  molten  stone  or 
gold,  and  put  bracelets  on  his  fore-paws,  giving  him  daily  a  set 
portion  of  bread,  with  a  certain  number  of  victims;  and,  after 
having  thus  treated  him  with  the  greatest  possible  attention  while 
alive,  they  embalm  him  when  he  dies  and  bury  him  in  a  sacred 
repository.  The  people  of  Elephantine,  on  the  other  hand,  are 
so  far  from  considering  these  animals  as  sacred  that  they  even  eat 
their  flesh. 

The  modes  of  catching  the  crocodile  are  many  and  various. 
I  shall  only  describe  the  one  which  seems  to  me  most  worthy  of 
mention.  They  bait  a  hook  with  a  chine  of  pork  and  let  the 
meat  be  carried  out  into  the  middle  of  the  stream,  while  the 
hunter  upon  the  bank  holds  a  living  pig,  which  he  belabors.  The 
crocodile  hears  its  cries  and,  making  for  the  sound,  encounters 
the  pork,  which  he  instantly  swallows  down.  The  men  on  the 
shore  haul,  and  when  they  have  got  him  to  land,  the  first  thing 
the  hunter  does  is  to  plaster  his  eyes  with  mud.  This  once  ac- 
complished, the  animal  is  dispatched  with  ease,  otherwise  he 
gives  great  trouble. 


758 


LITERATURE. 


{By  Herodotus.) 

The  other  Persians  were  silent,  for  all  feared  to  raise  their 
voice  against  the  plan  proposed  to  them.  But  Artabanus,  the 
son  of  Hystaspes,  and  uncle  of  Xerxes,  trusting  to  his  relation- 
ship, was  bold  to  speak:  "  O  King,"  he  said,  "it  is  impossible, 
if  no  more  than  one  opinion  is  uttered,  to  make  choice  of  the 
best;  a  man  is  forced  then  to  follow  whatever  advice  may  have 
been  given  him,  but  if  opposite  speeches  are  delivered,  then 
choice  can  be  exercised.  In  like  manner  pure  gold  is  not  recog- 
nized by  itself,  but  when  we  test  it  along  with  baser  ore,  we  per- 
ceive which  is  the  better.  I  counselcci  thy  father,  Darius,  who 
was  my  own  brother,  not  to  attack  the  Scyths,  a  race  of  people 
who  had  no  town  in  their  own  land.  He  thought,  however,  to 
subdue  those  wandering  tribes,  and  would  not  listen  to  me,  but 
marched  an  army  against  them,  and  ere  he  returned  home  lost 
many  of  his  bravest  warriors.  Thou  art  about,  O  King,  to  at- 
tack a  people  far  superior  to  the  Scyths,  a  people  distinguished 
above  others  both  by  land  and  sea.  'Tis  fit,  therefore,  that  I 
should  tell  thee  what  danger  thou  incurrest  hereby.  Thou  sayest 
that  thou  wilt  bridge  the  Hellespont,  and  lead  thy  troops  through 
Europe  against  Greece. 

"  Now,  suppose  some  disaster  befall  thee  by  land  or  sea,  or 
by  both.  It  may  be  even  so,  for  the  men  are  reputed  valiant. 
Indeed  one  may  measure  their  prowess  from  what  thc}^  have 
already  done;  for  when  Datis  and  Artaphernes  led  their  huge 
army  against  Attica,  the  Athenians  singly  defeated  them.  But 
grant  they  are  not  successful  on  both  elements.  Still,  if  they 
man  their  ships,  and,  defeating  us  by  sea,  sail  to  the  Hellespont, 
and  there  destroy  our  bridge — that,  sire,  were  a  fearful  hazard. 
And  here  'tis  not  by  my  own  mother  wit  alone  that  I  conjecture 


ART AB ANUS    DISSUADES    XERXES.  759 

what  will  happen,  but  I  remember  how  narrowly  we  escaped 
disaster  once,  when  thy  father,  after  throwing  bridges  over  the 
Thracian  Bosphorus  and  the  Ister,  marched  against  the  Scythi- 
ans, and  they  tried  every  sort  of  prayer  to  induce  the  lonians, 
who  had  charge  of  the  bridge  over  the  Ister,  to  break  the  pas- 
sage. On  that  day,  if  Histiseus,  the  King  of  Miletus,  had  sided 
with  the  other  princes,  and  not  set  himself  to  oppose  their  views, 
the  empire  of  the  Persians  would  have  come  to  naught.  Surely 
a  dreadful  thing  is  this  even  to  hear  caid,  that  the  King's  fortunes 
depended  wholly  on  one  man. 

"  Think,  then,  no  more  of  incurring  so  great  a  danger  when 
no  need  presses,  but  follow  the  advice  I  tender.  Break  up  this 
meeting,  and  when  thou  hast  well  considered  the  matter  with 
thyself,  and  settled  what  thou  wilt  do,  declare  to  us  thy  resolve. 
I  know  not  of  aught  in  the  world  that  so  profits  a  man  as  taking 
good  counsel  with  himself;  for  even  if  things  fall  out  against  one's 
hopes,  still  one  has  counseled  well,  though  fortune  has  made  the 
counsel  of  no  effect:  whereas,  if  a  man  counsels  ill  and  luck 
follows,  he  has  gotten  a  windfall,  but  his  counsel  is  none  the  less 
silly.  Seest  thou  how  God  with  His  lightning  smites  alway  the 
bigger  animals,  and  will  not  suffer  them  to  wax  insolent,  while 
those  of  lesser  bulk  chafe  Him  not.^  How  likewise  His  bolts  fall 
ever  on  the  highest  houses  and  the  tallest  trees  .^  So  plainly  does 
He  love  to  bring  down  ever3^thing  that  exalts  itself  Thus  oft- 
times  a  mighty  host  is  discomfitted  by  a  few  men,  when  God  in 
His  jealousy  sends  fear  or  storm  from  heaven,  and  they  perish  in 
a  way  unworth}'  of  them.  For  God  allows  no  one  to  have  high 
thoughts  but  Himself  Again,  hurry  always  brings  about  disas- 
ters, from  which  huge  sufferings  are  wont  to  arise;  but  in  delay 
lie  many  advantages,  not  apparent  (it  may  be)  at  first  sight,  but 
such  as  in  the  course  of  time  are  seen  of  all.  Such,  then,  is  my 
counsel  to  thee,  O  King. 

"  And   thou,  Mardonius,  son  of  Gobryas,  forbear  to  speak 


760 


LITERATURE. 


foolishly  concerning  the  Greeks,  who  are  men  that  ought  not  to 
be  lightly  esteemed  by  us.  For  while  thou  revilest  the  Greeks, 
thou  dost  encourage  the  King  to  lead  his  own  troops  against 
them;  and  this,  as  it  seems  to  me,  is  what  thou  art  specially 
striving  to  accomplish.  Heaven  send  thou  succeed  not  to  thy 
wish!  For  slander  is  of  all  evils  the  most  terrible.  In  it  two 
men  do  wrong,  and  one  man  has  wrong  done  to  him.  The 
slanderer  does  wrong,  forasmuch  as  he  abuses  a  man  behind  his 
back;  and  the  hearer,  forasmuch  as  he  believes  what  he  has  not 
searched  into  thoroughly.  The  man  slandered  in  his  absence 
suffers  wrong  at  the  hands  of  both;  for  one  brings  against  him  a 
false  charge,  and  the  other  thinks  him  an  evil-doer.  If,  however, 
it  must  needs  be  that  we  go  to  war  with  this  people,  at  least 
allow  the  Kins:  to  abide  at  home  in  Persia.  Then  let  thee  and 
me  both  stake  our  children  on  the  issue,  and  do  thou  choose  out 
thy  men,  and  taking  with  thee  whatever  number  of  troops  thou 
likest,  lead  forth  our  armies  to  battle.  If  things  go  well  for  the 
King,  as  thou  sayest  they  will,  let  me  and  my  children  be  put  to 
death;  but  if  they  fall  out  as  I  prophesy,  let  thy  children  suffer, 
and  thou,  too,  if  thou  shalt  come  back  alive.  But  shouldst  thou  re- 
fuse this  wager,  and  still  resolve  to  march  an  army  against  Greece, 
sure  I  am  that  some  of  those  whom  thou  leavest  behind  thee 
will  one  day  receive  the  sad  tidings  that  Mardonius  has  brought 
a  great  disaster  upon  the  Persian  people,  and  lies  a  prey  to  dogs 
and  birds  somewhere  in  the  land  of  the  Athenians,  or  else  in  that 
of  the  Lacedaemonians;  unless,  indeed,  thou  shalt  have  perished 
sooner  by  the  way,  experiencing  in  thy  own  person  the  might  of 
those  men  on  whom  thou  wouldst  fain  induce  the  King  to  make 
wai.'' 


SOCRATES.  761 


^OCRATZ:^. 

Socrates  was  born  at  Athens  about  the  middle  or  latter  part 
of  April,   469   B.   C.     He    commanded    more   admiration    and 
reverence  than  any  other  individual  of  ancient  or  modern  times. 
By  his  ability  and  purity  he  emerged  from   a   barbaric  sophistry 
into  the  purest  form  of  religion  that  was  ever   invented  by  man, 
it  was  nearer  like  that  of  Christ  than  was  ever  reached  b}^  mor 
tal  before.     The  object  of  his  entire    philosophy  was  the  attain 
ment   of   correct    ideas   concerning   moral   and  religious  obliga 
tions. 

Although  Socrates  was  the  son  of  a  sculptor  of  limited 
means,  he  was  educated  according  to  the  manner  of  the  times. 
Music  and  poetry  and  g3^mnastic  exercises  formed  the  principal 
part  of  the  education  of  an  Athenian  youth,  and  in  these  Socrates 
was  instructed. 

Through  the  influence  of  Crito,  a  wealthy  Athenian  who 
subsequently  became  an  intimate  friend  and  disciple  of  our  phi- 
losopher, he  was  induced  to  rise  into  a  higher  sphere.  He  then 
began  the  study  of  physics,  mathematics,  astronomy,  natural  phi- 
losophy, etc. 

Socrates,  however,  was  unable  to  obtain  any  satisfactory 
knowledge  from  the  philosophers  and  teachers  of  his  time. 
Dissatisfied  with  the  pretended  wisdom  of  the  Cosmologists  and 
Sophists  he  entirely  abandoned  all  speculative  subjects  and  de- 
voted his  entire  attention  to  human  affairs,  and  his  earnestness  as 
a  social  reformer  brought  upon  him  increasing  odium  from  the 
''Conservatives"  of  the  day,  as  well  as  from  that  still  larger 
class  whose  feelings  of  malice  and  revenge  towards  those  who 
expose  their  follies  and  their  vices,  their  wicked  private  customs 
and  public  institutions,  can  never  be  appeased  but  with  the  death 


762 


LITERATURE. 


of  their  victim.     Accordingly,  prejudice,  unpopularity  and  hate 
finally  prevailed,  and  two  charges  were  brought  against  him,  one 


of  not  believing  in  the  national  deities  and  the  other   of  corrupt- 
uvj:  the  vouth.     That  he  did  not  believe   in  the   idols  that   most 


SOCRATES.  763 

of  his  contemporaries  worshiped,  is  true;  but  that  he  corrupted 
the  youth  was  as  absurd  as  false,  for  all  his  teachings  tended  ever 
to  purify  them,  and  lead  them  in  the  paths  of  virtue  and  truth. 
He  defended  himself,  and  his  defense  is  a  perfect  whole,  neither 
more  nor  less  than  what  it  ought  to  have  been.  Proudly  con- 
scious of  his  innocence,  he  sought  not  to  move  the  pity  of  his 
judges,  for  he  cared  not  for  acquittal,  and  "  exhibited  that  union 
of  humility  and  high-mindedness  which  is  observable  in  none, 
perhaps,  with  the  exception  of  St.  Paul."  His  speech  availed 
not,  and  he  was  condemned  to  drink  the  hemlock.  He  continued 
in  prison  thirty  days  before  the  sentence  was  executed,  and  to 
this  interval  we  are  indebted  for  that  sublime  conversation  on 
the  immortality  of  the  soul  which  Plato  has  embodied  in  his 
Phsedo. 

At  length  the  fatal  day  arrived,  when  he  had  reached  his 
full  three  score  3'ears  and  ten.  Refusing  all  means  of  escape  to 
which  his  friends  continually  and  importunely  urged  him,  he  took 
the  poisoned  cup  from  the  hands  of  the  boy  who  brought  it  to 
him  in  his  prison-chamber,  drank  it  off  calmly  amid  the  tears  and 
sobs  of  surrounding  friends,  walked  about  till  the  draught  had 
begun  to  take  effect  upon  his  system,  and  then  laid  himself  down 
upon  his  bed,  and  soon  breathed  his  last.  Such  was  the  life  and 
such  the  death  of  this  great  man.  It  has  been  felt  as  the 
greatest  of  all  human  examples,  not  only  by  his  own  country- 
men, but  by  the  whole  civilized  world. 


pOCRATEg     AND     ARI^T0DE^1Ug. 

{By  Socrates.) 

We  will  now  relate  the  manner  in  which  Socrates  discoursed 
with  Aristodemus,  surnamed  the  Little.,  concerning  the  Deity. 
For,  observing  that  he  neither  prayed  nor  sacrificed  to  the  ^ods, 


764 


LITERATURE. 


nor  vet  consulted  any  oracle,  but,  on  the  contrary,  ridiculed  and 
laughed  at  those  who  did,  he  said  to  him: 

"  Tell  me,  Aristodemus,  is  there  any  man  whom  you  admire 
on  account  of  his  merit?'' 

Aristodemus  having  answered,  "  Manyy — "  Name  some 
of  them,  I  pray  you." 

"I  admire,"  said  Aristodemus,  "Homer  for  his  epic  poetry, 
Melanippides  for  his  dithyrambics,  Sophocles  for  tragedy,  Poly- 
cletes  for  statuary,  and  Xeuxis  for  painting." 

"  But  which  seems  to  you  most  worthy  of  admiration,  Aris- 
todemus— the  artist  who  forms  images  void  of  motion  and  intel- 
ligence, or  one  who  hath  the  skill  to  produce  animals  that  are 
endued,  not  only  with  activity,  but  understanding." 

"  The  latter^  there  can  be  no  doubt,"  replied  Aristodemus, 
"  provided  the  production  was  not  the  effect  of  chance^  but  of 
wisdom  and  contrivance." 

"  But  since  there  are  man}^  things,  some  of  which  we  can 
easily  see  the  use  of,  while  we  can  not  say  of  others  to  what  pur- 
pose they  were  produced,  which  of  these,  Aristodemus,  do  you 
suppose  the  work  of  wisdom?" 

"  It  should  seem  the  most  reasonable  to  affirm  it  of  those 
whose  fitness  and  utility  is  so  evidently  apparent." 

"  But  it  is  evidentl}^  apparent,  that  He,  who  at  the  begin- 
ning made  man,  endued  him  with  senses  because  they  were  s^ood 
for  him;  eyes,  wherewith  to  behold  whatever  was  visible;  and 
ears,  to  hear  whatever  was  to  be  heard.  For  say,  Aristodemus, 
to  what  purpose  should  odors  be  prepared,  if  the  sense  of  smell- 
ing had  been  denied?  Or  why  the  distinctions  of  bitter  and 
sweet,  of  savory  and  unsavory,  unless  a  palate  had  been  likewise 
given,  conveniently  placed,  to  arbitrate  between  them,  and  de- 
clare the  difference?  Is  not  that  Providence,  Aristodemus,  in  a 
most  eminent  manner  conspicuous,  which,  because  the  eye  of 
man  is  so  delicate  in  its  contexture,  hath  therefore  prepared  eye- 


SOCRATES    AND    ARISTODEMUS.  765 

lids  like  doors,  whereby  to  secure  it;  which  extend  of  themselves 
whenever  it  is  needful,  and  again  close  when  sleep  approaches? 
Are  not  these  eyelids  provided,  as  it  were,  with  a  fence  on  the 
edge  of  them,  to  keep  oft'  the  wind  and  guard  the  eye?  Even 
the  eyebrow  itself  is  not  without  office,  but,  as  a  penthouse,  is 
prepared  to  turn  oft"  the  sweat,  which,  falling  from  the  forehead, 
might  enter  and  annoy  that  no  less  tender  than  astonishhifr  part 
of  us!  Is  it  not  to  be  admired  that  the  ears  should  take  in 
sounds  of  every  sort,  and  yet  are  not  too  much  filled  by  them? 
That  the  fore-teeth  of  the  animal  should  be  formed  in  such  a 
manner  as  evidently  best  suited  for  the  cutting  of  its  food,  and 
those  on  the  side  for  grinding  it  in  pieces?  That  the  mouth, 
through  which  this  food  is  conveyed,  should  be  placed  so  near 
the  nose  and  the  eyes,  as  to  prevent  the  passing,  unnoticed^  what- 
ever is  unfit  for  nourishment;  while  Nature,  on  the  contrar}', 
hath  set  at  a  distance,  and  concealed  from  the  senses,  all  that 
might  disgust  them?  And  canst  thou  still  doubt,  Aristodemus! 
whether  a  disposition  of  parts  like  this  should  be  the  work  of 
chance,  or  of  wisdom  and  contrivance?'' 

"  I  have  no  longer  any  doubt,"  replied  Aristodemus;  "  and, 
indeed,  the  more  I  consider  it,  the  more  evident  it  appears  to  me, 
that  man  must  be  the  masterpiece  of  some  great  Artificer,  carry- 
ing along  with  it  infinite  marks  of  love  and  favor  of  Him  who 
hath  thus  formed  it." 

"  And  what  thinkest  thou,  Aristodemus,  of  that  desire  in 
the  individual  which  leads  to  the  continuance  of  the  species?  Of 
that  tenderness  and  aft'ection  in  the  female  towards  her  young,  so 
necessary  for  its  preservation?  Of  that  unremitted  love  of  life, 
and  dread  of  dissolution,  which  take  such  strong  possession  of  us 
from  the  moment  we  begin  to  be?" 

"  I  think  of  them,"  answered  Aristodemus,  "  as  so  many 
regular  operations  of  the  same  great  and  wise  Artist,  deliberately 
determining  to  preserve  what  He  hath  once  made." 


>r^6  LITERATURE. 

"  But,  farther  (unless  thou  desirest  to  ask  me  questions),  see- 
ino-,  Aristodemus,  thou  thyself  art  conscious  of  reason  and  intel- 
Ijo-ence,  supposest  thou  there  is  no  intelligence  elsewhere?  Thou 
knowest  thy  body  to  be  a  small  part  of  that  wide-extended  earth 
wliich  thou  everywhere  beholdest;  the  moisture  contained  in  it, 
thou  also  knowest  to  be  a  small  portion  of  that  mighty  mass  of 
waters  whereof  seas  themselves  are  but  a  part,  while  the  rest  of 
the  elements  contribute,  out  of  their  abundance,  to  thy  formation. 
It  is  the  soul,  then,  alone,  that  intellectual  part  of  us,  which  is 
come  to  //lee  by  some  luck}-  chance,  from  I  know  not  where.  If 
so  be,  there  is  indeed  no  intelligence  elsewhere;  and  we  must  be 
forced  to  confess,  that  this  stupendous  universe,  with  all  the  vari- 
ous bodies  contained  therein — equally  amazing,  whether  we  con- 
sider their  magnitude  or  number,  whatever  their  use,  whatever 
their  order — all  have  been  produced,  not  by  intelligence^  but 
chancer"^ 

"  It  is  with  difficulty  that  I  can  suppose  otherwise,"  returned 
Aristodemus,  "  for  I  behold  none  of  those  gods,  whom  you  speak 
of  as  mahino;  and  orovernino;  all  thino^s,  whereas  I  see  the  artists 
when  at  their  work  here  among  us." 

"  Neither  yet  seest  thou  thy  soul,  Aristodemus,  which,  how- 
ever, most  assuredly  governs  thy  body;  although  it  may  well 
seem,  by  thy  manner  of  talking,  that  it  is  chance^  and  not  reason^ 
which  governs  thee." 

"  I  do  not  despise  the  gods,"  said  Aristodemus;  "  on  the 
contrary,  I  conceive  so  highly  of  their  excellence,  as  to  suppose 
they  stand  in  no  need  of  either  me  or  of  my  services." 

"  Thou mistakest  the  matter,  Aristodemus;  the  greater  mag- 
nificence they  have  shown  in  their  care  of  thee^  so  much  the  more 
honor  and  service  thou  owest  them." 

"  Be  assured,"  said  Aristodemus,  "  if  I  once  could  be  per- 
suaded the  gods  took  care  of  man,  I  should  want  no  monitor  to 
remind  me  of  my  duty." 


SOCRATES    AND    ARISTODICMUS.  767 

"  And  canst  thou  doubt,  Aristodemus,  if  the  gods  take  care 
of  man?  Hath  not  the  glorious  privilege  of  walking  upright 
been  alone  bestowed  on  him,  whereby  he  may,  with  the  better 
advantage,  survey  what  is  around  him,  contemplate,  with  more 
ease,  those  splendid  objects  which  are  above,  and  avoid  the 
numerous  ills  and  inconveniences  which  would  otherwise  befall 
him?  Other  animals,  indeed,  they  have  provided  with  feet,  by 
which  they  may  remove  from  one  place  to  another;  but  to  man 
the}^  have  also  given  liands^  with  which  he  can  form  many  things 
for  his  use,  and  make  himself  happier  than  creatures  of  any 
other  kind.  A  tongue  hath  been  bestowed  on  every  other  ani- 
mal, but  what  animal,  except  man,  hath  the  power  of  forming 
words  with  it,  whereby  to  explain  his  thoughts,  and  make  them 
intelliofible  to  others?  And  to  show  that  the  o:ods  have  had  re- 
gard  to  his  very  ^leasures^  they  have  not  limited  them,  like  those 
of  other  animals,  to  times  and  seasons,  but  man  is  left  to  indulge 
in  them  whenever  not  hurtful  to  him. 

"But  it  is  not  with  respect  to  the  body  alone  that  the  gods 
have  shown  themselves  thus  bountiful  to  man!  Their  most  ex- 
cellent gift  is  that  soul  they  have  infused  into  him,  which  so  far 
surpasses  what  is  elsewhere  to  be  found.  For,  by  what  animal, 
except  man,  is  even  the  existence  of  those  gods  discovered,  who 
have  -produced^  and  still  uphold^  in  such  regular  order,  this  beau- 
tiful and  stupendous  frame  of  the  universe?  What  other  species 
of  creatures  are  to  be  found  that  can  serve,  that  can  adore  them? 
What  other  animal  is  able,  like  man,  to  provide  against  the  as- 
saults of  heat  and  cold,  of  thirst  and  hunger?  That  can  lay  up 
remedies  for  the  time  of  sickness  and  improve  the  strength 
nature  hath  given  by  a  well-proportioned  exercise?  That  can 
receive,  like  him,  information  and  instruction,  or  so  happily  keep 
in  memory  what  he  hath  seen,  and  heard,  and  learnt?  These 
things  being  so,  who  seeth  not  that  man  is,  as  it  were,  a  god  in 
the  midst  of  this  visible  creation;  so  far  doth  he  surpass,  whether 


>jC,6  LITERATURE. 

in  the  endowments  of  soul  or  body,  all  animals  whatsoever  that 
have  been  produced  therein !  For,  if  the  body  of  the  ox  had  been 
joined  to  the  wmd  of  uiau,  the  acuteness  of  the  latter  would 
have  stood  him  in  small  stead,  while  unable  to  execute  the  well- 
designed  plan;  nor  would  the  human  form  have  been  of  more  use 
to  the  brute,  so  long  as  it  remained  destitute  of  understanding! 
But  in  thee,  Aristodemus,  hath  been  joined  to  a  wonderful  soul^ 
a  body  no  less  wonderful,  and  sayest  thou,  after  this^  'the  gods 
take  no  thought  for  me!'  What  wouldst  thou,  then,  more  to  con- 
vince thee  of  their  care?" 

"I  would  they  should  send,  and  inform  me,"  said  Aristod- 
emus, "  what  things  I  ought  or  ought  not  to  do  in  like  manner 
as  thou  sayest  they  frequently  do  to  thee." 

"And  what  then,  Aristodemus!  Supposest  thou,  that  when 
the  gods  give  out  some  oracle  to  all  the  Athenians,  they  mean 
it  not  for  thee?  If,  by  their  prodigies,  they  declare  aloud  to  all 
Greece — to  all  mankind — the  things  which  shall  befall  them,  are 
the\'  dumb  to  thee  alone?  And  art  thou  the  only  person  whom 
they  have  placed  beyond  their  care?  Believest  thou  they  would 
have  wrought  into  the  mind  of  man  a  persuasion  of  their  being 
able  to  make  him  happy  or  miserable,  if  so  be  the}'  had  no  such 
■povjer?  or  would  not  even  man  himself,  long  ere  this,  have  seen 
through  the  gross  delusion?  How  is  it,  Aristodemus,  thou  re- 
memberest,  or  remarkest  not,  that  the  kingdoms  and  common- 
wealths most  renowned  as  well  for  their  wisdom  as  antiquity, 
are  those  whose  piety  and  devotion  hath  been  the  most  observ- 
able? And  why  thinkest  thou  that  the  providence  of  God  may 
not  easily  extend  itself  throughout  the  whole  universe?  As, 
therefore,  among  men,  we  make  best  trial  of  the  affection  and 
gratitude  of  our  neighbor,  by  showing  him  kindness,  and  dis- 
cover his  wisdom,  by  consulting  him  in  our  distress;  do  thou,  in 
like  manner,  behave  towards  the  gods,  and,  if  thou  wouldst  ex- 
perience what  their  wisdom,  and  what  their  love,  render  thyself 


SOCRATES    AND    ARISTODEMUS.  769 

deserving  the  communication  of  some  of  those  divine  secrets 
which  may  not  be  perpetrated  by  man,  and  are  imparted  to  those 
alone  who  consult,  who  adore,  who  obey  the  Deity.  Then  shalt 
thou,  my  Aristodemus,  understand  there  is  a  Being  whose  eye 
pierceth  throughout  all  nature,  and  whose  ear  is  open  to  every 
sound;  expended  to  all  places;  expending- through  all  time,  and 
whose  bounty  and  care  can  know  no  other  bounds  than  those 
fixed  by  his  own  creation!" 

By  this  discourse,  and  others  of  the  like  nature,  wSocrates 
taught  his  friends  that  they  were  not  only  to  forbear  whatever 
was  impious,  unjust,  or  unbecoming  before  men;  but  even,  when 
alone,  they  ought  to  have  a  regard  to  their  actions;  since  the 
gods  ha\'e  their  eyes  continually  upon  us,  and  none  of  our  de- 
signs can  be  concealed  from  them. 


EURIPIDE^. 

Euripides  flourished  about  450  B.  C;  was  born  480  B.  C. 
He  spent  his  youth  in  the  highest  mental  and  physical  training. 
He  was  a  native  of  Athens,  and  enjoyed  the  most  glorious  days 
of  her  annals,  being  brought  in  direct  connection  with  yEschylus 
and  Sophocles,  and  in  his  older  days  was  a  pupil  of  Socrates. 

In  comparing  Euripides  and  the  other  two  masters  in  Gre- 
cian tragedy,  it  may  be  said  that  he  ranks  first  in  tragic  represent- 
ation and  effect:  Sophocles  first  in  dramatic  symmetry  and  orna- 
ment; ^^schylus  first  in  poetic  vigor  and  grandeur,  ^schylus 
was  the  most  sublime;  Sophocles  the  most  beautiful;  Euripides 
the  most  pathetic.  The  first  displa3'S  the  lofty  intellect;  the 
second  exercises  the  cultivated  taste;  the  third  indulo;es  the  feel- 
ing  heart.  Each,  as  it  were,  shows  a  fine  piece  of  sculpture. 
In  ^schylus,  it  is  a  naked  hero,  with  all  the  strength,  boldness, 
49 


j«0  LITERATURE. 

and  dignity  of  olden  time.  In  Sophocles  and  Euripides,  it  may 
be  perhaps  tlie  same  hero;  but  with  the  former,  he  has  put  on 
the  flowing  robes,  the  elegant  address,  and  the  soft  urbanity  of  a 
polished  age;  with  the  latter,  he  is  yielding  to  some  melancholy 
emotion,  ever  heedless  oi'  his  posture  or  gait,  and  casting  his 
uiivalued  drapery  negligently  about  him.  They  have  been  com- 
pared by  an  illustration  from  another  art:  "  The  sublime  and 
daring  ^schNlus  resembles  some  strong  and  impregnable  castle 
situated  on  a  rock,  whose  martial  grandeur  awes  the  beholder — 
its  battlements  defended  by  heroes,  and  its  gates  proudly  hung 
with  trophies.  Sophocles  appears  with  splendid  dignity,  like 
some  imperial  palace  of  richest  architecture;  the  symmetry  of 
the  parts  and  the  chaste  magnificence  of  the  whole  delight  the 
eye  and  command  the  approbation  of  the  judgment.  The 
pathetic  and  moral  Euripides  has  the  solemnity  of  a  Gothic 
temple,  whose  storied  windows  admit  a  dim  religious  light, 
enough  to  show  its  high  embowed  roof,  and  the  monuments  of 
the  dead  which  rise  in  every  part,  impressing  our  minds  with 
pity  and  terror  as  emblems  of  the  uncertain  and  short  duration  of 
human  greatness,  and  with  an  awful  sense  of  our  own  mortalit}^ 


ARIgTOPHAlNE?. 

Very  little  is  known  about  the  life  of  Aristophanes.  He 
was  born  about  444  B.  C,  and  devoted  himself  to  comic  poetry. 
He  wrote  fifty-four  plays,  ol'  which  eleven  are  extant. 

The  comedies  of  Aristophanes  are  universally  regarded  as 
the  standard  of  Attic  writing  in  its  greatest  purity.  His  genius 
was  vast,  versatile,  and  original,  and  his  knowledge  of  human 
nature  surpassed  by  Homer  and  Shakspeare  alone. 

The   noble  tone   of   morals,  the   elevated   taste,  the   sound 


ARISTOPHANES. 


771 


political  wisdom,  the  boldness  and  acuteness  of  the  satire,  the 
grand  object,  which  is  seen  throughout,  of  correcting  the  follies 
of  the  day,  and  improving  the  condition  of  his  country — all  these 
are  features  in  Aristophanes,  which,  however  disguised,  as  they 
intentionally  are,  by  coarseness  and  buffooner}',  entitle  him  to  the 
highest  respect  from  every  reader  of  antiquit}-.  He  conde- 
scended, indeed,  to  play  the  part  of  jester  to  the  Athenian  tyrant. 
But  his  jests  were  the  vehicles  for  telling  to  them  the  soundest 
truths.  They  were  never  without  a  far  higher  aim  than  to  raise 
a  momentary  laugh.  He  was  no  farce  writer,  but  a  deep  philo- 
sophical politician;  grieved  and  ashamed  at  the  condition  of  his 
country,  and  through  the  stage,  the  favorite  amusement  of 
Athenians,  aiding  to  carry  on  the  one  great  cominon  work, 
which  Plato  proposed  in  his  dialogues,  and  in  which  all  the  bet- 
ter and  nobler  spirits  of  the  time  seem  to  have  concurred  as  by 
a  confederacy — the  reformation  of  an  atrocious  democracy. 
There  is  as  much  system  in  the  comedies  of  Aristophanes  as  in 
the  dialogues  of  Plato.  Ever}'  part  of  a  vitiated  public  mind  is 
exposed  in  its  turn.  Its  demagogues  in  the  Knights,  its  courts 
of  justice  in  the  Wasps,  its  foi'eign  policy  in  the  Acharnians,  its 
tyrann}'  over  the  allies  in  the  Birds,  the  state  of  female  society 
'n  the  Sysistrate  and  the  Ecclesiazusae,  and  its  corrupt  poetical 
taste  in  the  Frogs.  No  one  pla}'  is  without  its  definite  object; 
and  the  state  of  national  education,  as  the  greatest  cause  of  all, 
IS  laid  open  in  the  Clouds.  Whatever  light  is  thrown,  by  that 
admirable  play,  upon  the  character  of  Socrates,  and  the  position 
which  he  occupies  in  the  Platonic  Dialogues — a  point,  it  may  be 
remarked,  on  which  the  greatest  mistakes  are  daily  made — it  is 
chiefly  valuable  as  exhibiting,  in  a  short  but  ver}-  complete  anal- 
ysis, and  by  a  number  of  fine  Rembrandt-like  strokes,  not  any 
of  which  must  be  overlooked,  all  the  features  of  that  frightful 
school  of  sophistr}',  which  at  that  time  was  engaged  systemati- 
cally in  corrupting  the  Athenian  youth,  and  against  which  the 
whole  battery  of  Plato  was  pointedly  directed. 


^72  LITERATURE. 


PLATO. 

Plato  was  born  in  the  year  429  B.  C,  and  died  when  lie 
was  eighty-two  years  old,  on  his  birthday.  He  was  a  pupil  of 
Socrates,  the  first  and  purest  of  moral  philosophers.  By  the  rare 
union  of  a  brilliant  imagination  with  a  fondness  for  severe 
mathematical  studies  and  profound  metaphysical  investigations; 
by  extensive  foreign  travel ;  by  familiar  intercourse  with  the  most 
enlightened  men  of  his  time,  particularly  Socrates,  whose  in- 
structive conversations  he  attended  for  eight  years,  as  well  as  by 
the  correspondence  which  he  maintained  witii  the  Pythagoreans 
of  Magna  Grgecia,  this  great  philosopher  came  to  surpass  all 
others  in  the  vastness  and  profoundness  of  his  views,  and  in  the 
correctness  and  eloquence  with  which  he  expressed  them;  while 
his  pure  moral  character  entitled  him  to  take  his  place  by  the 
side  of  Socrates.  Socrates  once  said,  "  For  what  higher  reward 
could  a  teacher  ask  than  to  have  such  pupils  as  Xenophon  and 
Plato.?'' 

The  object  of  Plato  was  evidently  the  noble  one  of  placing 
before  man  a  high  intellectual,  and  consequently,  by  implication, 
a  high  moral  standard  as  the  end  and  object  of  his  aspirations; 
to  encourage  his  efforts  after  the  true,  the  pure,  the  beautiful, 
and  the  virtuous,  knowing  that  the  character  would  be  purified 
in  the  endeavor,  and  that  the  consciousness  of  the  progress  made, 
step  by  step,  would  be  of  itself  a  reward.  The  object  of  science 
was,  as  he  taught,  the  true,  the  eternal,  the  immutable,  that 
which  is;  in  one  alone  could  these  attributes  be  found  united — 
that  is  God.  Man's  dut3%  then,  according  to  the  Platonic  sys- 
tem is  to  know  God  and  His  attributes,  and  to  aim  at  being  under 
the  practical  influence  of  this  knowledge.  This  the  Christian  is 
taught,  but   much   more   simply  and   plainly,  to   know  God,  and 


PLATO. 


773 


Jesus  Christ  whom  He  hath  sent,  and  to  propose  to  himself  a 
perlect  standard,  to  be  perfect  even  as  his  Father  in  heaven  is 
perfect,  and  to  look  forward,  by  that  help  which  Plato  had  no 
warrant  to  look  for,  to  attain  the  perfect  measure  of  the  fulness 
of  Christ.  Although  Plato  believed  and  taught  that  man  ought 
to  strive  after  and  devote  himself  to  the  contemplation  of  the 
One,  the  Eternal,  the  Infinite,  he  was  humbly  conscious  that  no 
one  could  attain  to  the  perfection  of  such  knowledge;  that  it  is 
too  wonderful  and  excellent  for  human  powers.  Man's  incapacity 
for  apprehending  this  knowledge  he  attributed  to  the  soul,  during 
his  present  state  of  existence,  being  cramped  and  confined  by  its 
eai':hly  tabernacle. 

Plato  defined  virtue  to  be  the  imitation  of  God,  or  the  free 
effort  of  man  to  attain  to  a  resemblance  to  his  orisfinal,  or,  in 
other  terms,  a  unison  and  harmony  of  all  our  principles  and 
actions  according  to  reason,  whence  results  the  highest  degree 
of  happiness.  Evil  is  opposed  to  this  harmony  as  a  disease  of 
the  soul.  Virtue  is  one^  indeed,  but  compounded  of  four  ele- 
ments— wisdom^  coiirao-e^  temperance^  and  justice.  In  his  prac- 
tical philosophy  he  blended  a  rigid  principle  of  moral  obligation 
with  a  spirit  of  gentleness  and  humanity;  and  education  he  de- 
scribed as  a  liberal  cultivation  and  moral  discipline  of  the  mind. 
Politics  he  defined  to  be  the  application,  on  a  great  scale,  of  the 
laws  of  morality;  for  a  society,  being  composed  of  individuals,  is 
under  similar  moral  obligations,  and  the  end  of  politics  to  be 
liberty  and  concord.  Beauty  he  considered  to  be  the  sensible 
representation  of  moral  and  physical  perfection;  consequently  it 
is  one  with  truth  and  goodness,  and  inspires  love,  which  leads  to 
virtue. 

Would  that  many  so-called  Christian  legislators  and  Chris- 
tian people  would  go  to  this  "  heathen  "  philosopher  and  learn  of 
him — learn  that  to  do  right  is  always  and  ever  the  highest 
safety,  the  highest  expediency,  the  highest  "  conservatism,"  the 
highest  good! 


n-A  LITER  A'lURE. 

How  beautifully  Akenside  expresses  this: — 

"  Thus  was  beauty  sent  from  heaven.. 
The  lovely  ministress  of  truth  and  gooo, 
In  this  dark  world:  for  truth  and  good  ake  one, 
And  beauty  dwells  in  them,  and  they  in  her, 
With  like  particii'ation.     Wherefore,  then, 
O  sons  of  earth!  would  ye  dissolve  the  tie? 
O  wherefore,  with  a  rash,  impetuous  aim, 
Seek  ye  those  flowery  joys  with  which  the  hand 
Of  lavish  fancy  paints  each  flattering  scene 
Where  beauty  seems  to  dwell,  nor  once  inquire 
Where  is  the  sanction  of  eternal  truth, 
Or  where  the  seal  of  undeceitful  good, 
To  save  your  search  from  folly!  wanting  these, 
Lo!  beauty  withers  in  your  void  embrace, 
^  '        And  with  the  glittering  of  an  idiot's  toy 

Did  fancy  mock  your  vows." 


THE   REINFECT  BEAUTY. 

{By  Plato.) 

"  He  who  aspires  to  love  rightly,  ought  irom  his  earliest 
youth  to  seek  an  intercourse  with  beautiful  forms,  and  first  to 
make  a  single  form  the  object  of  his  love,  and  therein  to  gene- 
rate intellectual  excellencies.  He  ought,  then,  to  consider  that 
beauty  in  whatever  form  it  resides  is  the  brother  of  that  beauty 
which  subsists  in  another  form;  and  if  he  ought  to  pursue  that 
which  is  beautiful  in  form,  it  would  be  absurd  to  imagine  that 
beauty  is  not  one  and  the  same  thing  in  all  Ibrms,  and  would 
therefore  remit  much  of  his  ardent  preference  towards  one, 
through  his  percepti(Mi  of  the  multitude  of  claims  upon  his  love. 
In  addition,  he  would  consider  the  beauty  which  is  in  souls  more 
excellent  than  that  which  is  in  form.  So  that  one  endowed  with 
an  admirable   soul,   even  though   the   flower  of  the   form   were 


THE    PERFECT    BEAUTY. 


775 


withered,  would  suffice  him  as  the  object  of  his  love  and  care, 
and  the  companion  with  whom  he  might  seek  and  produce  such 
conclusions  as  tend  to  the  improvement  of  youth;  so  that  it 
might  be  led  to  observe  the  beauty  and  the  conformity  which 
there  is  in  the  observation  of  its  duties  and  the  laws,  and  to  es- 
teem little  the  mere  beauty  of  the  outward  form.  He  would 
then  conduct  his  pupil  to  science,  so  that  he  might  look  upon  the 


FROM   ANCIENT    SCULPTURING. 


loveliness  of  wisdom;  and  that  contemplating  thus  the  universal 
beauty,  no  longer  would  he  unworthily  and  meanly  enslave  him- 
self to  the  attractions  of  one  form  in  love,  nor  one  subject  of 
discipline  or  science,  but  would  turn  towards  the  wide  ocean  of 
intellectual  beauty,  and  from  the  sight  of  the  lovely  and  majestic 
forms  which  it  contains,  would   abundantly  bring   forth   his   con 


776 


LITERATURE. 


ceptions  in  philosoph}-;  until,  strengthened  and  confirmed,  he 
should  at  length  steadily  contemplate  one  science  which  is  the 
science  of  this  universal  beauty. 

"  Attempt,  I  entreat  you,  to  mark  what  I  say  with  as  keen 
an  observation  as  you  can.  He  who  has  been  disciplined  to  this 
point  in  love,  by  contemplating  beautiful  objects  gradually,  and 
in  their  order,  now  arriving  at  the  end  of  all  that  concerns  love, 
on  a  sudden  beholds  a  beauty  wonderful  in  its  nature.  This  is  it, 
O  Socrates,  for  the  sake  of  which  all  the  former  labors  were  en- 
dured. It  is  eternal,  unproduced,  indestructible;  neither  subject 
to  increase  nor  decay;  not,  like  other  things,  partly  beautiful  and 
partly  deformed;  not  at  one  time  beautiful  and  at  another  time 
not;  not  beautiful  in  relation  to  one  thing  and  deformed  in  rela- 
tion to  another;  not  here  beautiful  and  there  deformed;  not  beau- 
tiful in  the  estimation  of  one  person  and  deformed  in  that  of 
another;  nor  can  this  supreme  beauty  be  figured  to  the  imagina- 
tion like  a  beautiful  face,  or  beautiful  hands,  or  an}'  portion  of 
the  body,  nor  like  any  discourse,  nor  any  science.  Nor  does  it 
subsist  in  any  other  that  lives  or  is,  either  in  earth,  or  in  heaven, 
or  in  any  other  place;  but  it  is  eternally  uniform  and  consistent, 
and  monoeidic  with  itself.  All  other  things  are  beautiful 
through  a  participation  of  it,  with  this  condition,  that  although 
they  are  subject  to  production  and  decay,  it  never  becomes  more 
or  less,  or  endures  any  change.  When  any  one,  ascending  from 
a  correct  S3'stem  of  love,  begins  to  contemplate  this  supreme 
beauty,  he  already  touches  the  consummation  of  his  labor.  For 
such  as  discipline  themselves  upon  this  system,  or  are  conducted 
by  another  beginning  to  ascend  through  these  transitory  objects 
which  are  beautiful,  towards  that  which  is  beauty  itself,  pro- 
ceeding as  on  steps  from  the  love  of  one  form  to  that  of  two, 
and  Irom  that  of  two,  to  that  ot'  all  Ibrms  which  are  beautiful; 
and  from  beautiful  Ibrms  to  beautiful  habits  and  institutions, 
and    froiu    institutions    to    beautiful    doctrines:    until,    Irom    the 


THE    PERFECT    BEAUTY. 


777 


meditation  of  many  doctrines,  they  arrive  at  that  which  is 
nothing  else  than  the  doctrine  of  the  supreme  beaut}'  itseU^, 
in  the  knowledge  an:-  contemplation  of  which  at  length  they  re- 
pose. 

"  Such  a    life   as   this,   my   dear   Socrates, '^    exclaimed  the 
stranger  Prophetess,   "  spent  in  the  contemplation  of  the  beauti- 
ful, is  the   life    for  men    to   live;    which,  if   you   chance    ever  to 
experience,  you  will  esteem  far  beyond  gold   and  rich  garments, 
and  even  those   lovely  persons  whom  you  and  many  others  now 
gaze  on  with  astonishment,  and  are  prepared  neither  to  eat  nor 
drink  so  that  you  may  behold  and  live  forever  with  these  objects 
of  your  love!     What,  then,  shall  we  imagine  to  be  the  aspect  of 
the  supreme  beauty  itself,  simple,  pure,  uncontaminated  with  the 
intermixture  of  human  flesh  and  colors,  and  all  other  idle  and 
unreal  shapes   attendant    on   mortality;  the   divine,  the   original, 
the  supreme,  the  monoeidic  beautiful  itself  ?     What  must  be  the 
life  of  him  who  dwells  with  and  gazes  on  that  which  it  becomes 
us  all  to  seek?     Think  you  not  that  to  him  alone  is  accorded  the 
prerogative  of  bringing  forth,  not  images  and  shadows  of  /^irtue, 
for  he  is  in   contact  not  with   a   shadow  but  with   realitv;    with 
virtue   itself,    in   the   production   and    nourishment   of  which   he 
becomes  dear  to  the  gods,  and  if  such  a  privilege  is  conceded  to 
any    human    being,    himself  immortal?  '' — From    the    Banquet^ 
trmislated  by  the  poet  Shelley. 


THZ:  LAgT   HOUf^g  Of  gOCf^ATEp. 

{By  Plato.) 

"  When  the  dead  arrive  at  the  place  to  which  their  demon 
leads  them  severally,  first  of  all  they  are  judged,  as  well  those 
who  have  lived  well  and  piously,  as  those  who  have  not.  And 
those  who  appear  to  have  passed  a  middle  kind  of  life,  proceed- 


778 


LITERATURE. 


ing  to  Acheron,  and  embarking  in  the  vessels  they  have,  on  these 
arrive  at  the  hike,  and  there  dwell,  and  when  they  are  purified, 
and  have  suffered  punishment  lor  the  iniquities  they  may  have 
committed,  the}'  are  set  free,  and  each  receives  the  reward  of 
his  good  deeds,  according  to  his  deserts;  but  those  who  appear 
to  be  incurable,  through  the  magnitude  of  their  offences,  either 
from  having  committed  man}'  and  great  sacrileges,  or  many 
unjust  and  lawless  murders,  or  other  similar  crimes,  these  a  suit- 
able destiny  hurls  into  Tartarus,  whence  they  never  come  forth. 
But  those  who  appear  to  have  been  guilty  of  curable,  yet  great 
offences,  such  as  those  who  through  anger  have  committed  any 
violence  against  father  or  mother,  and  have  lived  the  remainder 
of  their  life  in  a  state  of  penitence,  or  they  who  have  become 
homicides  in  a  similar  manner,  these  must  fall  into  Tartarus,  but 
after  they  have  fallen,  and  have  been  there  for  a  year,  the  wave 
casts  them  forth,  the  homicides  into  Gocytus,  but  the  parricides 
and  matricides  into  Pyriphlegethon ;  but  when,  being  borne  along, 
they  arrive  at  the  Acherusian  lake,  there  they  cry  out  to  and 
invoke,  some  those  whom  they  slew,  others  those  whom  they 
injured,  and  invoking  them,  they  entreat  and  implore  them  to 
suffer  them  to  go  out  into  the  lake,  and  to  receive  them,  and  if 
thev  persuade  them,  they  go  out,  and  are  freed  from  their  suffer- 
ings, but  if  not,  they  are  borne  back  to  Tartarus,  and  thence 
again  into  the  rivers,  and  they  do  not  cease  from  suffering  this 
until  they  have  persuaded  those  whom  they  have  injured;  for 
this  sentence  was  imposed  upon  them  by  the  judges.  But  those 
who  are  found  to  have  lived  an  eminently  holy  life,  these  are 
they,  who,  being  freed  and  set  at  large  from  these  regions  in  the 
earth,  as  from  prison,  arrive  at  the  pure  abode  above,  and  dwell 
on  the  upper  parts  of  the  earth.  And  among  these,  they  who 
have  sufficiently  purified  themselves  by  philosophy  shall  live 
without  bodies,  throughout  all  future  time,  and  shall  arrive  at 
habitations  yet  more  beautiful  than  these,  which  it  is  neither  easy 
to  describe,  nor  at  present  is  there  sufficient  time  for  the  purpose. 


THE    LAST    HOURS    OF    SOCRATES.  779 

"  But  tor  the  sake  ot'  these  things  which  we  have  described, 
we  should  use  ever}^  endeavor,  Simmias,  so  as  to  acquire  virtue 
and  wisdom  in  this  Hte;  for  the  reward  is  noble,  and  the  hope 
great. 

''  To  atfirm  positively,  indeed,  that  these  things  are  exactly 
as  I  have  described  them,  does  not  become  a  man  of  sense;  that 
however  either  this,  or  something  of  the  kind,  takes  place  with 
respect  to  our  souls  and  their  habitations— since  our  soul  is  cer- 
tainly immortal — this  appears  to  me  most  fitting  to  be  believed, 
and  worthy  the  hazard  for  one  who  trusts  in  its  reality;  for  the 
hazard  is  noble,  and  it  is  right  to  allure  ourselves  with  such 
things,  as  with  enchantments;  for  which  reason  I  have  prolonged 
my  story  to  such  a  length.  On  account  of  these  things,  then,  a 
man  ought  to  be  confident  about  his  soul,  who  during  this  life 
has  disregarded  all  the  pleasures  and  ornaments  of  the  body  as 
foreign  from  his  nature,  and  who,  having  thought  that  they  do 
more  harm  than  good,  has  zealously  applied  himself  to  the 
acquirement  of  knowledge,  and  who  having  adorned  his  soul 
not  with  a  foreign  but  its  own  proper  ornament,  temperance, 
justice,  fortitude,  freedom,  and  truth,  thus  waits  for  his  passage 
to  Hades,  as  one  who  is  ready  to  depart  whenever  destiny  shall 
summon  him.  You  then,"  he  continued,  "  Simmias  and  Cebes, 
and  the  rest,  will  each  of  you  depart  at  some  future  time;  but 
now  destiny  summons  me,  as  a  tragic  writer  would  say,  and  it 
is  nearly  time  for  me  to  betake  myself  to  the  bath;  for  it  appears 
to  me  to  be  better  to  drink  the  poison  after  I  have  bathed  m}''- 
self,  and  not  to  trouble  the  women  with  washing  my  dead  body." 

When  he  had  thus  spoken,  Crito  said,  "  So  be  it,  Socrates; 
but  what  commands  have  you  to  give  to  these  or  to  me,  either 
respecting  your  children,  or  any  other  matter,  in  attending  to 
which  we  can  most  oblige  you?" 

"  What  T  always  say,  Crito,"  he  replied,  "  nothing  new; 
that  by  taking  care  of  yourselves  you  will  oblige  both  me  and 


780 


LITERATURE. 


mine  and  yourselves,  whatever  you  do,  though  you  should  not 
now  promise  it;  but  if  you  neglect  yourselves,  and  will  not  live 
as  it  were  in  the  footprints  of  what  has  been  now  and  formerly 
said,  even  though  you  should  promise  much  at  present,  and  that 
earnestly,  you  will  do  no  good  at  all." 

''  We  will  endeavor  then  so  to  do,'^  he  said;  "but  how  shall 
we  bury  you.^" 

"Just  as  you  please,"  he  said,  "  if  only  you  can  catch  me, 
and  I  do  not  escape  from  you."  And  at  the  same  time  smiling 
gently,  and  looking  round  on  us,  he  said,  "I  can  not  persuade 
Crito,  mv  friends,  that  I  am  that  Socrates  who  is  now  conversing 
with  you,  and  who  methodizes  each  part  of  the  discourse;  but 
he  thinks  that  I  am  he  whom  he  will  shortly  behold  dead,  and 
asks  how  he  should  bury  me.  But  that  which  I  some  time  since 
argued  at  length,  that  when  I  have  drunk  the  poison  I  shall  no 
longer  remain  with  you,  but  shall  depart  to  some  happy  state 
of  the  blessed,  this  I  seem  to  have  urged  to  him  in  vain,  though 
I  meant  at  the  same  time  to  console  both  you  and  myself.  Be 
ye,  then,  my  sureties  to  Crito,"  he  said,  "  in  an  obligation  con- 
trary to  that  which  he  made  to  the  judges;  for  he  undertook 
that  I  should  remain;  but  do  you  be  sureties  that,  when  I  die,  I 
shall  not  remain,  but  shall  depart,  that  Crito  may  more  easily 
bear  it,  and  when  he  sees  my  body  either  burned  or  buried,  may 
not  be  afflicted  for  me,  as  if  I  suffered  some  dreadful  thing,  nor 
say  at  my  interment  that  Socrates  is  laid  out,  or  is  carried  out, 
or  is  buried.  For  be  well  assured,"  he  said,  "  most  excellent 
Crito,  that  to  speak  improperly  is  not  only  culpable  as  to  the 
thing  itself,  but  likewise  occasions  some  injury  to  our  souls.  You 
must  have  a  good  courage,  then,  and  say  that  you  bur}'  my  body, 
and  bury  it  in  such  a  manner  as  is  pleasing  to  you,  and  as  you 
think  is  most  agreeable  to  our  laws." 

When  he  had  said  this,  he  rose,  and  went  into  a  chamber 
to  batlic,  and  Crito  followed   him,  but  he  directed  us  to  wait  lor 


THE    LAST    HOURS    OF    SOCRATES.  781 

him.  We  waited,  therefore,  conversing  among  ourselves  about 
vi^hat  had  been  said,  and  considering  it  again,  and  sometimes 
speaking  about  our  calamity,  how  severe  it  would  be  to  us,  sin- 
cerely thinking  that,  like  those  who  are  deprived  of  a  father,  we 
should  pass  the  rest  of  our  lives  as  orphans.  When  he  had 
bathed,  and  his  children  were  brought  to  him,  for  he  had  two 
little  sons  and  one  grown  up,  and  the  women  belonging  to  his 
family  were  come,  having  conversed  with  them  in  the  piesence 
of  Crito,  and  giving  them  such  injunctions  as  he  wished,  he 
directed  the  women  and  children  to  go  away,  and  then  returned 
to  us.  And  it  was  now  near  sunset;  for  he  spent  a  considerable 
time  within.  But  when  he  came  from  bathing  he  sat  down,  and 
did  not  speak  much  afterwards.  Then  the  officer  of  the  Eleven 
came  in,  and,  standing  near  him,  said,  ''  Socrates,  I  shall  not 
have  to  find  that  fault  with  you  that  I  do  with  others,  that  they 
are  angry  with  me,  and  curse  me,  when,  by  order  of  the  archons, 
I  bid  them  drink  the  poison.  But  you,  on  all  other  occasions 
during  the  time  you  have  been  here,  I  have  found  to  be  the  most 
noble,  meek,  and  excellent  man  of  all  that  ever  came  into  this 
place;  and,  therefore,  I  am  now  well  convinced  that  you  will  not 
be  angry  with  me,  for  you  know  who  are  to  blame,  but  with 
them.  Now,  then,  for  you  know  what  I  came  to  announce  to 
you,  farewell,  and  endeavor  to  bear  what  is  inevitable  as  easily 
as  possible."  And  at  the  same  time,  bursting  into  tears  he 
turned  away  and  withdrew. 

And  Socrates,  looking  after  him,  said,  "  And  thou,  too,  fare- 
well; we  will  do  as  you  direct."  At  the  same  time  turning  to 
us,  he  said,  "  How  courteous  this  man  is;  during  the  whole  time 
I  have  been  here  he  has  visited  me,  and  conversed  with  me  some- 
times, and  proved  the  worthiest  of  men;  and  now  how  gener- 
ously he  weeps  for  me.  But  come,  Crito,  let  us  obey  him,  and 
let  some  one  bring  the  poison,  if  it  is  ready  pounded,  but  if  not,. 
let  the  man  pound  it." 


y82  LITERATURE. 

Then  Crito  said,  "  But  1  think,  Socrates,  that  the  sun  is  still 
on  the  mountains,  and  has  not  yet  set.  Besides,  I  know  that 
others  have  drank  the  poison  very  late,  after  it  had  been  an- 
nounced to  them,  and  have  supped  and  drank  freely.  Do  not 
hasten,  then,  for  there  is  yet  time." 

Upon  this  Socrates  replied,  "  These  men  whom  you  mention. 
Crito,  do  these  things  with  good  reason,  for  they  think  they  shall 
gain  by  so  doing,  and  I,  too,  with  good  reason  shall  not  do  so; 
for  I  think  I  shall  gain  nothing  by  drinking  a  little  later,  except 
to  become  ridiculous  to  myself,  in  being  so  fond  of  life,  and 
sparing  of  it  when  none  any  longer  remains.  Go,  then,"  he  said, 
"obey,  and  do  not  resist." 

Crito  having  heard- this,  nodded  to  the  boy  that  stood  near. 
And  the  boy  having  gone  out,  and  stayed  for  some  time,  came, 
bringing  with  him  the  man  that  was  to  administer  the  poison, 
who  brought  it  ready  pounded  in  a  cup.  And  Socrates,  on  see- 
ing the  man,  said,  "Well,  my  good  friend,  as  you  are  skilled  in 
these  matters,  what  must  I  do.'*" 

"  Nothing  else,"  he  replied,  "  than,  when  you  have  drank  it, 
walk  about  until  there  is  a  heaviness  in  your  legs,  then  lie  down; 
thus  it  will  do  its  purpose."  And  at  the  same  time  he  held  out 
the  cup  to  Socrates.  And  he  having  received  it  very  cheerfully, 
neither  trembling,  nor  changing  at  all  in  color  or  countenance, 
but,  as  he  was  wont,  looking  steadfastly  at  the  man,  said,  "What 
say  you  of  this  potion,  with  respect  to  making  a  libation  to  any 
one,  is  it  lawful  or  not?" 

"  We  only  pound  so  much,  Socrates,"  he  said,  "  as  we  think 
sufficient  to  drink." 

"  I  understand  you,"  he  said,  "•  but  it  is  certainly  both  lawful 
and  right  to  pray  to  the  gods  that  my  departure  hence  thither 
may  be  happy;  which  therefore  I  pray,  and  so  may  it  be."  And 
as  he  said  this  he  drank  it  off  readily  and  calmly.  Thus  far, 
most  of  us  were  with  difficulty  able   to  restrain   ourselves   fi-om 


THE    LAST    HOlRSOl-    SOCRATES.  783 

weeping;  but  when  we  saw  him  drinking,  and  having  finished 
the  draught,  we  could  do  so  no  longer;  but  in  spite  of  myself 
the  tears  came  in  full  torrent,  so  that,  covering  my  face,  I  wept 
for  myself,  for  I  did  not  weep  for  him,  but  for  m}'  own  fortune, 
in  being  deprived  of  such  a  friend.  But  Crito,  even  before  me, 
when  he  could  not  restrain  his  tears,  had  risen  up.  But  Apollo- 
dorus  even  before  this  had  not  ceased  weeping,  and  then  burst- 
ing into  an  agony  of  grief,  weeping  and  lamenting,  he  pierced 
the  heart  of  every  one  present,  except  Socrates  himself  But 
he  said,  "What  are  you  doing,  my  admirable  friends?  I  in- 
deed for  this  reason  chiefly,  sent  away  the  women,  that  they 
might  not  ?ommit  any  foll}^  of  this  kind.  For  I  have  heard  that 
it  is  right  to  die  v  '<"h  good  omens.  Be  quiet,  therefore,  and 
bear  up." 

When  we  heard  this  we  were  ashamed,  and  restrained  our 
tears.  But  he,  having  walked  about,  when  he  said  that  his  legs 
were  growing  heavy,  laid  down  on  his  back;  for  the  man  so 
directed  him.  And  at  the  same  time  he  who  gave  him  the  poison, 
taking  hold  of  him,  after  a  short  interval  examined  his  feet  and 
legs;  and  then  having  pressed  his  foot  hard,  he  asked  if  he  felt 
it;  he  said  that  he  did  not.  And  after  this  he  pressed  his  thighs; 
and  thus  going  higher,  he  showed  us  that  he  was  growing  cold 
and  stiff.  Then  Socrates  touched  himself,  and  said  that  when 
the  poison  reached  his  heart  he  should  then  depart.  But  now 
the  parts  around  the  lower  belly  were  almost  cold;  when,  un- 
covering himself,  for  he  had  been  covered  over,  he  said,  and  they 
were  his  last  words,  "Crito,  we  owe  a  cock  to  ^sculapius;  pay 
it,  therefore,  and  do  not  neglect  it." 

"  It  shall  be  done,"  said  Crito,  "  but  consider  whether  you 
have  any  thing  else  to  say." 

To  this  question  he  gave  no  reply,  but  shortly  after  he  gave 
a  convulsive  movement,  and  the  man  covered  him,  and  his  eyes 
were  fixed,  and  Crito,  perceiving  it,  closed  his  mouth  and  eyes. 


7^-4 


LITERATURE. 


This,  Echecrates,  was  the  end  of  our  triend,  a  man,  as  we  may 
say,  the  best  of  all  of  his  time  that  we  have  known,  and,  more- 
over, the  most  wise  and  iust. 


DEMO^THEJSEp. 


Demosthenes  was  born  382  B.  C.  and  died  322  B.  C,  at 
the  age  of  sixty.  His  father  died  when  he  was  but  seven  years 
old  and  left  his  son  a  large  estate,  which  was  squandered  by  his 
guardians. 

Demosthenes,  most  happily,  was  forced  to  depend  upon  the 
resources  of  his  own  intellect,  and  determined  to  devote  his  life 
to  oratory.  He  chose  Isseus  for  his  master,  and  though  having 
a  weakly  constitution,  and  an  impediment  in  his  speech,  yet  by 

steady,  persevering  effort,  and  daily 
practice,  he  brought  himself  to  ad- 
dress without  embarrassment,  and 
with  complete  success,  the  assembled 
multitudes  of  the  Athenian  people. 
His  first  attempts  at  oratory  were 
made  to  vindicate  his  own  claims, 
and  recover  the  property  which  his 
guardians  had  appropriated  to  them- 
selves. In  this  he  proved  entirely 
successful.  After  this,  he  displa3'ed 
his  ability  as  an  orator  on  several 
KINO  PHILIP  {of  Macedon).        ^^^y^y^^  occasions,  and  succeeded    by 

the  power  of   his  eloquence  in   preventing  the  Athenians  from 
eno^aginor  in  a  war  with  Persia. 

But  most  of  the  oratorical  efforts  of  Demosthenes  were  di- 
rected to  rouse  the  Athenians  from  indolence,  and  to   arm  them. 


DEMOSTHENES.  785 

against  the  insidious  designs  and  ambitious,  schemes  of  Philip, 
who,  in  the  3'ear  358  B.  C,  began  the  attack  unon  the  northern 
maritime  aUies  of  Athens. 

In  modern  times,  Lord  Chatliam's  speech  on  American 
affairs,  delivered  in  the  House  of  Lords,  November  18,  1877; 
Edmund  Burke's,  on  the  ''  Nabob  of  Arcot's  Debts,"  delivered 
in  the  House  of  Commons,  February  28,  1785;  Fisher  Ames',  on 
the  "  British  Treaty,"  delivered  in  our  House  of  ReDresentatives, 
April  28,  1796;  Daniel  Webster's,  on  the  "  Puunc  Lands,"  de- 
livered in  the  United  States  Senate,  1830,  and  Charles  Sumner's, 
on  the  infamous  "  Fugitive  Slave  Bill,"  delivered  in  the  Senate  in 
1852,  v^^ill,  for  effective,  brilliant,  and  logical  eloquence,  rank  side 
by  side  with  the  masterly  efforts  of  Demosthenes. 


PHILIP    AND    THE    ATHENIAN?. 

{Oration  of  Demosthenes.) 

If  any  one  of  you,  Athenians,  think  that  Philip  is  hard  to 
struggle  with,  considering  both  the  magnitude  of  the  power 
already  to  his  hand  and  the  fact  that  all  the  strong  places  are 
lost  to  our  state — he  thinks  rightly  enough.  But  let  him  take 
this  into  account:  that  we  ourselves,  Athenians,  once  held  Pydna, 
and  Potida^a,  and  Mathone,  and  all  that  country — as  it  were  in 
our  own  home-circle;  and  many  of  the  states  now  under  his 
sway  were  beginning  to  be  self-ruled  and  free,  and  preferred  to 
hold  friendly  relations  with  us  rather  than  with  him.  Now,  then, 
if  Philip  had  harbored  at  that  time  the  idea  that  it  was  hard  to 
struggle  with  the  Athenians  when  they  had  such  strongholds  in 
his  country,  while  he  was  destitute  of  allies — he  would  have 
effected  none  of  those  things  which  he  has  accomplished,  nor 
would  he  have  ever  acquired  so  great  power.  But  he  at  least 
knew  this  well  enough,  Athenians — that  all  these  strongholds  are 
50 


786  LITERATURE. 

prizes  of  war  open  to  each  contestant,  and  that  natnrally  the  pos- 
sessions of  the  abpent  fall  to  those  who  are  on  the  spot,  and  the 
opportunities  of  the  careless  are  seized  by  those  willing  to  work 
and  to  risk.  It  has  been  so  in  his  case,  tor,  possessed  by  such  sen- 
timents, he  has  thoroughly  subdued  and  now  holds  all  places; 
some,  as  one  might  hold  them  in  his  grasp  by  custom  of  war; 
others,  by  having  made  them  allies  and  friends.  No  wonder;  for 
all  are  ready  to  give  their  heartfelt  adherence  to  those  whom 
they  see  prepared  and  ready  to  do  what  necessity  demands. 

In  like  manner,  if  you,  also,  Athenians,  are  now  ready  to 
adopt  the  same  principle  (since,  alas!  you  were  not  before),  and 
each  one  of  you,  throwing  away  all  dissimulation,  is  ready  to  show 
himself  useful  to  the  state,  as  far  as  its  necessity  and  his  powei 
extend;  if  each  is  ready  to  do — the  rich  to  contribute,  those  of 
serviceable  age  to  take  the  field;  in  a  word,  if  you  choose  to  be 
your  own  masters,  and  each  individual  ceases  to  do  nothing,  hop- 
ing that  his  neighbor  will  do  all  for  him — you  will  both  regain 
your  possessions  (with  heaven's  permission)  and  recover  your 
opportunities  recklessly  squandered :  you  will  take  vengeance  on 

HIM. 

Do  not  suppose  his  present  happy  fortune  immutable — im- 
mortal, like  a  god's;  on  the  other  hand,  some  hate  him,  others 
fear  him,  Athenians,  and  envy  him,  and  that,  too,  in  the  number 
of  those  who  seem  on  intimate  terms  with  him;  for  all  those  pas- 
sions that  rage  in  other  men,  we  may  assume  to  be  hidden  in  the 
bosoms  of  those  also  that  surround  him.  Now,  however,  all 
these  passions  have  crouched  before  him,  having  no  escape  on 
account  of  3'our  laziness  and  indifference,  which,  I  repeat,  you 
ought  immediately  to  abandon.  For  you  see  the  state  of  things, 
Athenians,  to  what  a  pitch  of  arrogance  he  has  come — this  man 
who  gives  you  no  choice  to  act  or  to  remain  quiet,  but  brags 
about  and  talks  words  of  overwhelming  insolence,  as  they  tell  us. 
He  is  not  such  a  character  as  to  rest  with  the  possessions  which 


PHILIP    AND    THE    ATHENIANS.  787 

he  has  conquered,  but  is  always  compassing  something  else,  and 
at  every  point  hedging  us,  dallying  and  supine,  in  narrower  and 
narrower  circles.  When,  then,  Athenians,  when  will  3-ou  do 
what  3'ou  ought?  As  soon  as  something  happens?  As  soon, 
great  Jove!  as  necessity  compels  you?  Why,  what  does  neces 
sity  compel  you  to  think  now  of  your  deeds?  In  my  opinion, 
the  most  urgent  necessit}'  to  freemen  is  the  disgrace  attendant 
upon  their  public  policy. 

Or  do  }'ou  prefer — tell  me,  do  you  prefer  to  wander  about 
here  and  there,  asking  in  the  market-place,  "  What  news?  what 
news?"  What  can  be  newer  than  that  a  Macedonian  should 
crush  Athenians  in  war  and  lord  it  ov-er  all  Greece?  "  Is  Philip 
dead?"  "  No,  by  Jove,  but  he^s  sick."  What  difference  is  it  to 
you?  what  difference?  For  if  anything  should  happen  to  him, 
3''ou  would  quickly  raise  up  another  Philip,  if  3'ou  manage  your 
public  affairs  as  you  now  do.  For  not  so  much  to  his  own 
strength  as  to  your  laziness  does  he  owe  his  present  aggrandize- 
ment. 

Yet  even  if  anything  should  happen  to  him,  and  fortune 
begin  to  iavor  us  (for  she  has  always  cared  for  us  more  kindly 
than  we  for  ourselves);  you  know  that  by  being  nearer  to  them 
you  could  assert  your  power  over  all  these  disordered  posses- 
sions, and  could  dictate  what  terms  you  might  choose;  but  as 
you  now  act,  if  some  chance  should  give  3'ou  Amphipolis,  3'ou 
could  not  take  it,  so  lacking  are  }^ou  in  3'uur  preparations  and 
zeal. 


JVlEASUREg  TO    I^EglgT    PHILIP. 

(Oration  of  Demosthenes.) 

Let  any  one  now  come  forward  and  tell  me  b3'  whose  con- 
trivance but  ours  Philip  has  grown  strong.  Well,  sir,  this  looks 
bad,  but  things  at  home  a^°  better.     What  proof  can  be   ad- 


"788  LITERATURE. 

duced?  The  parapets  that  are  whitewashed?  The  roads  that 
are  repaired?  fountains  and  fooleries?  Look  at  the  men  of 
whose  statesmanship  these  are  the  fruits.  They  have  risen  from 
beggary  to  opulenee,  or  from  obscurity  to  honor;  some  have 
made  their  private  houses  more  splendid  than  the  public  build- 
ings, and  in  proportion  as  the  state  has  declined,  their  fortunes 
have  been  exalted. 

What  has  produced  these  results?  How  is  it  that  all  went 
prosperously  then,  and  now  goes  wrong?  Because  anciently  the 
people,  having  the  courage  to  be  soldiers,  controlled  the  states- 
men, and  disposed  of  all  emoluments;  any  of  the  rest  was  happy  to 
receive  from  the  people  his  share  of  honor,  office,  or  advantage. 
Now,  contrariwise,  the  statesmen  dispose  of  emoluments; 
through  them  everything  is  done;  you,  the  people,  enervated, 
stripped  of  treasure  and  relies,  are  become  as  underlings  and 
hangers-on,  happy  if  these  persons  dole  you  out  show-money  or 
send  3'ou  paltry  beeves;  and,  the  unmanliest  part  of  all,  3'ou  are 
grateful  for  receiving  your  own.  They,  cooping  you  in  the  city, 
lead  3'OU  to  }'our  pleasures,  and  make  you  tame  and  submissive 
to  their  hands.  It  is  impossible,  I  say,  to  have  a  high  and  noble 
spirit,  while  you  are  engaged  in  petty  and  mean  employments; 
whatever  be  the  pursuits  of  men,  their  characters  must  be 
similar.  By  Ceres,  I  should  not  wonder  if  I,  for  mentioning 
these  things,  suffered  more  from  your  resentment  than  the  men 
who  have  brought  them  to  pass.  For  even  libert}^  of  speech 
you  allow  not  on  all  subjects;  I  marvel  indeed  you  have  allowed 
it  here. 

Would  \'ou  but  even  now,  renouncing  these  practices,  per- 
form military  service  and  act  vv^orthily  of  yourselves;  would  3'ou 
emplov  these  domestic  superfluities  as  a  means  to  gain  advantage 
abroad;  perhaps,  Athenians,  perhaps  3'ou  might  gain  some  solid 
and  important  advantage,  and  be  rid  of  these  perquisites,  which 
are  like  the  diet  ordered   by  ph3'sicians   for   the  sick.     As   that 


MEASURES    TO    RESIST    PHILIP.  789 

neither  imparts  strength,  nor  suffers  the  patient  to  die,  so  your 
allowances  are  not  enough  to  be  of  substantial  benefit,  nor  3'et 
permit  you  to  reject  them  and  turn  to  something  else.  Thus  do 
they  increase  the  general  apathy.  What?  I  shall  be  asked, 
mean  3'ou  stipendiary  service.^  Yes,  and  forthwith  the  same  ar- 
rangement for  all,  Athenians,  that  each,  taking  his  dividend  from 
the  public,  may  be  what  the  state  requires.  Is  peace  to  be  hud? 
You  are  better  at  home,  under  no  compulsion  to  act  dishonor- 
ably from  indigence.  Is  there  such  an  emergency  as  the  present.'* 
Better  to  be  a  soldier,  as  you  ought,  in  your  country's  cause, 
maintained  by  those  very  allowances.  Is  any  one  of  you  beyond 
the  military  age.^  What  he  now  irregularly  takes  without  doing 
service,  let  him  take  by  just  regulation,  superintending  and  trans- 
acting needful  business.  Thus,  without  derogating  from  or 
adding  to  our  political  system,  only  removing  some  irregularity, 
I  bring  it  into  order,  establishing  a  uniform  rule  for  receiving 
money,  for  serving  in  war,  for  sitting  on  juries,  for  doing  what 
each,  according  to  his  age,  can  do,  and  what  occasion  requires. 
I  never  advise  we  should  give  to  idlers  the  wages  of  the  diligent, 
or  sit  at  leisure,  passive  and  helpless,  to  hear  that  such  a  one's 
mercenaries  are  victorious,  as  we  now  do.  Not  that  I  blame 
any  one  who  does  3'ou  a  service;  I  only  call  upon  3'ou,  Athenians, 
to  perform  upon  your  own  account  those  duties  for  which  you 
honor  strangers,  and  not  to  surrender  that  post  of  dignit}^  which, 
won  through  man}'  glorious  dangers,  your  ancestors  have  be- 
queathed. 

I  hav'^  s£iid  nearly  all  that  I  think  necessary.  I  trust  you 
will  adc>^;t  7.hat  course  which  is  best  for  the  country  and  your- 
selves. 


yOQ  LITERA'lURE. 


FOP^MER    ATHENIAr^g    DEgCf^IBED. 


(5y  iJemostJunes.) 


I  ask  you,  Athenians,  to  see  how  it  was  in  the  time  of  your 
ancestors;  for  by  domestic  (not  foreign)  examples  you  may 
learn  your  lesson  of  duty.  Themistocles  who  commanded  in 
the  sea-fight  at  Salamis,  and  Miltiades  who  led  at  Marathon,  and 
many  others,  who  performed  services  unlike  the  generals  of  the 
present  day — assuredly  they  were  not  set  up  in  brass  nor  over- 
valued by  our  forefathers,  who  honored  them,  but  only  as  persons 
on  a  level  with  themselves.  Your  forefathers,  O  my  countrymen, 
surrendered  not  their  part  to  any  of  those  glories.  There  is  no 
man  who  will  attribute  the  victory  of  Salamis  to  Themistocles, 
but  to  the  Athenians;  nor  the  battle  of  Marathon  to  Miltiades, 
but  to  the  republic.  But  now  people  say  that  Timotheus  took 
Corcyra,  and  Iphicrates  cut  off  the  Spartan  division,  and  Cha- 
brias  won  the  naval  victory  at  Naxos;  for  you  seem  to  resign 
the  merit  of  these  actions,  by  the  extravagance  of  the  honors 
which  you  have  bestowed  on  their  account  upon  each  of  the 
commanders. 

So  wisely  did  the  Athenians  of  that  day  confer  political 
rewards;  so  improperly  do  you.  But  how  the  rewards  of  for- 
eigners.^ To  Menon  the  Pharsalian,  who  gave  twelve  talents  in 
money  for  the  war  at  Eion  by  Amphipolis,  and  assisted  them 
with  two  hundred  horsemen  of  his  own  retainers,  the  Athenians 
then  voted  not  the  freedom  of  their  city,  but  only  granted  im- 
munity from  imposts.  And  in  earlier  times  to  Perdiccas,  who 
reigned  in  Macedonia  during  the  invasion  of  the  Barbarian — - 
when  he  had  destroyed  the  Persians  who  retreated  from  Plataea 
after  their  defeat,  and  completed  the  disaster  of  the  King — they 
voted  not  the  freedom  of  their  city,  but  only  granted  immunity 
from  imposts;  doubtless  esteeming  their   country  to  be  of  high 


FORMER    ATHENIANS    DESCRIB'i:D.  791 

value,  honor,  and  dignity,  surpassing  all  possible  obligation.  But 
now,  ye  men  of  Athens,  ye  adopt  the  vilest  of  mankind,  menials 
and  the  sons  of  menials,  to  be  your  citizens,  receiving  a  price  as 
for  any  other  salable  commodity.  And  you  have  fallen  into  such 
a  practice,  not  because  your  natures  are  inferior  to  your  ancestors, 
but  because  they  were  in  a  condition  to  think  highly  of  them- 
selves, while  from  you,  men  of  Athens,  this  power  is  taken  away. 
It  can  never  be,  methinks,  that  your  spirit  is  generous  and  noble, 
while  you  are  engaged  in  petty  and  mean  employments;  no  more 
than  you  can  be  abject  and  mean-spirited,  while  your  actions  are 
honorable  and  glorious.  Whatever  be  the  pursuits  of  men  their 
sentiments  must  necessarily  be  similar. 

Mark   what   a  summary  view  may  be  taken  of  the   deeds 
performed  by  your  ancestors   and  by  3'ou.     Possibly  from   such 
comparison  3'OU  may  rise  superior  to  yourselves.     They  for  a 
period  of  live  and  forty  years  took  the  lead   of  the   Greeks  by 
general  consent,  and  carried  up  more  than  ten  thousand  talents 
into   the   citadel;    and   many  glorious   trophies  they  erected   for 
victories  by  land   and   sen,  wherein   even  yet  we  take   a   pride. 
And  remember,  they  erected  these,  not  merely  that  we  may  sur- 
vey them  with  admiration,  but,  also,  that  we  may  emulate   the 
virtues  of  the  dedicators.     Such  was  their  conduct:  but  for  ours 
— fallen  as  we  have  on  a  solitude  manifest  to  you  all — look  if  it 
bears  any  resemblance.      Have   not  more   than   fifteen   hundred 
talents   been   lavished   ineffectually  on   the  distressed   people    of 
Greece?     Have  not   all   private  fortunes,   the   revenues   of   the 
state,  the  contributions  from  our  allies,  been  squandered?     Have 
not  the  allies,  whom  we  gained  in  the  war,  been  lost  recentl}^  in 
the   peace?     But   forsooth,  in   these   respects   only  was  it   better 
anciently   than   now,   in   other  respects   worse.     Very  far   from 
that!     Let  us  examine  what  instances  you  please.      The  edifices 
which   they  left,  the   ornaments   of  the   city  in  temples,  harbors, 
and  the  like,  were  so  magnificent  and  beautiful,  that  room  is  not 


792 


LITERATURE. 


left  for  any  succeeding  generation  to  surpass  them;  yonder  gate- 
way, the  Parthenon,  docks,  porticos,  and  others  structures,  which 
they  adorned  the  city  withal  and  bequeathed  to  us.  The  private 
houses  of  the  men  in  power  were  so  modest  and  in  accordance 
with  the  name  of  the  constitution,  that  if  any  one  knows  the 
style  of  house  which  Themistocles  occupied,  or  Cimon,  or  Aris- 
tides,  or  Miltiades,  and  tlic  illustrious  of  that  day,  he  perceives 
it  to  be  no  grander  than  that  of  the  neighbors.  But  now,  ye 
men  of  Athens — as  regards  public  measures — our  government  is 
content  to  furnish  roads,  fountains,  whitewashing,  and  trumpery; 
not  that  I  blame  the  authors  of  these  works;  far  otherwise;  I 
blame  you,  if  you  suppose  that  such  measures  are  all  3'ou  ha\'e 
to  execute.  As  regards  individual  conduct — your  men  in  office 
have  (some  of  them)  made  their  private  houses,  not  only  more 
ostentatious  than  the  multitude,  but  more  splendid  than  the  pub- 
lic buildings;  others  are  farming  land  which  they  have  purchased 
of  such  an  extent  as  once  they  never  hoped  for  in  a  dream. 

The  cause  of  this  difference  is,  that  formerly  the  people 
were  lords  and  masters  of  all;  any  individual  citizen  was  glad  to 
receive  from  them  his  share  of  honor,  office,  or  profit.  Now,  on 
the  contrary,  these  persons  are  the  disposers  of  emoluments; 
everything  is  done  by  their  agency;  the  people  are  treated  as 
underlings  and  dependents,  and  you  are  happy  to  take  what  these 
men  allow  you  for  your  portion. 


DILATION    0J\1    THE    CROWN. 

{By  Demosthenes.) 

Let  me  begin,  men  of  Athens,  by  imploring,  of  all  the 
Heavenly  Powers,  that  the  same  kindly  sentiments  which  I  have, 
throughout   my  public   life,  cherished   towards  this   country  and 


ORATION    ON    THE    CROWN.  793 

each  one  of  you,  may  now  by  you  be  shown  towards  me  in  the 
present  contest!  In  two  respects  my  adversary  plainly  has  the 
advantao-e  of  me.  First,  we  have  not  the  same  interests  at 
stake;  it  is  by  no  means  the  same  thing  for  me  to  tbrfeit  your 
esteem,  and  for  ^schines,  an  unprovoked  volunteer,  to  fail  in  his 
impeachment.  My  other  disadvantage  is,  the  natural  proneness 
of  men  to  lend  a  pleased  attention  to  invective  and  accusation, 
but  to  give  little  heed  to  him  whose  theme  is  his  own  vindica- 
tion. To  my  adversary,  therefore,  falls  the  part  which  ministers 
to  your  gratification,  while  to  me  there  is  only  left  that  which, 
I  may  almost  say,  is  distasteful  to  all.  And  yet,  if  I  do  not 
speak  of  m}'self  and  my  own  conduct,  I  shall  appear  defenseless 
against  his  charges,  and  without  proof  that  my  honors  were  well 
earned.  This,  therefore,  I  must  do;  but  it  shall  be  with  modera- 
tion. And  bear  in  mind  that  the  blame  of  my  dwelling  on  per- 
sonal topics  must  justly  rest  upon  him  who  has  instituted  this 
personal  impeachm.ent. 

At  least,  my  judges,  you  will  admit  that  this  question  con- 
cerns ma  as  much  as  Ctesiphon,  and  justifies  on  my  part  an  equal 
anxiety.  To  be  stripped  of  any  possession,  and  more  especially 
by  an  enemy,  is  grievous  to  bear,  but  to  be  robbed  of  your  con- 
fidence and  esteem — -of  all  possessions  the  most  precious — is 
indeed  intolerable.  Such,  then,  being  m}'  stake  in  this  cause,  I 
conjure  you  all  to  give  ear  to  my  defense  against  these  charges, 
with  that  impartiality  which  the  laws  enjoin — those  laws  first 
given  by  Solon,  and  which  he  fixed,  not  only  by  engraving  them 
on  brazen  tables,  but  by  the  sanction  of  the  oaths  you  take 
when  sitting  in  judgment;  because  he  perceived  that,  the 
accuser  being  armed  with  the  advantage  of  speaking  first,  the 
accused  can  have  no  chance  of  resisting  his  charges,  unless  you, 
his  judges,  keeping  the  oath  sworn  before  Heaven,  shall  receive 
with  favor  the  defense  which  comes  last,  and,  lending  an  equal 
ear  to  both  parties,  shall  thus  make  up  your  minds  upon  the 
whole  of  the  case. 


794 


LITERATURE. 


CICERO. 


Cicero,  taken  all  in  all,  lor  his  eloquence,  for  his  learning, 
for  his  true  patriotism,  for  the  profound  and  ennobling  views  he 
has  left  us  in  his  critical,  oratorical  and  philosophical  writings,  as 
well  as  for  his  purity  in  all  the  domestic  relations  of  life,  in  the 
midst  of  almost  universal  profligacy,  stands  forth  upon  the 
page  of  history  as  one  of  the  very  brightest  names  the  ancients 
have  left  us.  He  was  probably  distingu'ished  most  as  an 
orator,  in  which  character  he  is  most  generally  known,  though 
as  a  general  scholar  and  statesman  he  was  almost  without  a  peer. 
He  was  born  on  the  third  of  Januar}',  io6  B.  C.  His  father  was 
a  member  of  the  Equestrian  order,  and  lived  in  easy  circum- 
stances near  Arpinum,  but  afterwards  removed  to  Rome  for  the 
purpose  of  educating  his  sons,  Marcus  and  Quintus.  'The  very 
best  teachers  were  procured  for  them.  Almost  immediately 
after  his  schooling  he  was  promoted,  and  rose  from  one  station 
of  honor  and  distinction  to  another. 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  any  individual  ever  rose  to 
power  by  more  virtuous  and  truly  honorable  conduct,  and  the 
integrity  of  his  public  life  was  only  equaled  by  the  purity  of  his 
private  morals.  But  as  his  history  is  taught  to  our  school  boys 
and  his  orations  read  in  their  original  language,  we  will  not 
lengthen  our  remarks.  The  following  are  his  works.  They  are 
numerous  and  diversified,  but  may  be  arranged  under  five  separate 
heads:  i.  Pliihsopliical  Works.  2.  Speeches.  3.  dn'res- 
fondence.  4.  Poems.  5.  Historical  and  Miscellaneous  Works. 
The  following  arc  the  most  important: 

First,  his    Philosophical    Works,      i.   De  Inventione  Rhe- 
torica,  "On  the  Rhetorical  Art;"  intended  to  exhibit,  in   a   corr 
pendious  form,  all  that  are  most  valuable   in  the  works  of  the 


AUGUSTUS  C/ESAR.     (Found  at  Pompeii.) 


795 


■796  LITERATURE. 

Grecian  rhetoricians.  2.  De  Partiiione  Oratoria  Dialoo-us, 
"  A  Dialogue  on  the  several  Divisions  of  Rhetoric,"  a  sort  of 
catechism  of  rhetoric.  3.  De  Oratore^  "On  the  True  Orator," 
a  systematic  work  on  tlie  art  of  oratory.  This  is  one  of  his 
most  briUiant  efforts,  and  so  accurately  finished  in  its  minute 
parts,  that  it  may  be  regarded  as  a  masterpiece  of  skill  in  all 
that  relates  to  the  graces  of  style  and  composition.  4.  Brutus: 
de  Claris  Oratoribus.  This  is  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue,  and 
contains  a  complete  critical  history  of  Roman  eloquence.  5. 
Orator^  "  The  Orator,"  addressed  to  Marcus  Brutus,  giving  his 
views  as  to  what  constitutes  a  perfect  orator.  6.  De  Republican 
"  On  the  Republic,"  in  six  books,  designed  to  show  the  best  form 
of  government  and  the  duty  of  the  citizen;  but  a  considerable 
portion  of  this  is  lost.  7.  De  Officiis ;  a  treatise  on  moral  obliga- 
tions, viewed  not  so  much  with  reference  to  a  metaphysical  in- 
vestigation of  the  basis  on  which  they  rest,  as  to  the  practical 
business  of  the  world,  and  the  intercourse  of  social  and  political 
life.  This  is  one  of  his  most  precious  legacies.  8.  De  Finibus 
Bonoruni  et  Maloruiii^  '•  On  the  Ends  of  Good  and  Evil,"  a 
series  of  dialogues  dedicated  to  M.  Brutus,  in  which  the  opinions 
of  the  Grecian  schools,  especially  of  the  Epicureans,  the  Stoics, 
and  the  Peripatetics,  on  the  Supreme  Good,  the  Summum 
Bonum^  that  is,  X^x^Jinis^  "the  end." 


IJ^IVECTIVE    AQAIN^T    CATILINE. 

[By  Cicero.) 

How  long,  O  Catiline,  wilt  thou  abuse  our  patience.'^  How 
long  shalt  thou  baffle  justice  in  thy  mad  career.^  To  what  ex- 
treme wilt  thou  carry  thy  audacity.^  Art  thou  nothing  daunted 
by  the  nightly  watch,  posted  to  secure  the  Palatium.?     Nothing, 


INVECTIVE    AGAINST    CATILINE.  79*^ 

by  the  city  guards!  Nothing,  by  the  rally  of  all  good  citizens r 
Nothing,  by  the  assembling  of  the  senate  in  this  fortified  place? 
Nothing,  by  the  av^erted  looks  of  all  here  present?  Seest  thou 
not  that  all  thy  plots  are  exposed? — that  thy  wretched  conspir- 
acy is  laid  bare  to  every  man's  knowledge,  here  in  the  senate? — 
that  we  are  well  aware  of  thy  proceedings  of  last  night;  ot'  the 
night  before;  the  place  of  meeting,  the  company  convoked,  the 
measures  concerted?  Alas,  the  times!  Alas, the  public  morals! 
The  senate  understands  all  this.  The  Consul  sees  it.  Yet  the 
traitor  lives!  Lives?  Ay,  truly,  and  confronts  us  here  in  coun- 
cil; takes  part  in  our  deliberations;  and,  with  his  measuring  eye, 
marks  out  each  man  of  us  for  slaughter!  And  we,  all  this  while, 
strenuous  that  we  are,  think  we  have  amply  discharged  our  duty 
to  the  state,  if  we  but  shun  this  madman's  sword  and  fury! 

Long  since,  O  Catiline,  ought  the  Consul  to  have  ordered 
thee  to  execution,  and  brought  upon  thy  own  head  the  ruin  thou 
hast  been  meditating  against  others!  There  was  that  virtue 
once  in  Rome,  that  a  wicked  citizen  was  held  more  execrable 
than  the  deadliest  foe.  We  have  a  law  still,  Catiline,  for  thee. 
Think  not  that  we  are  powerless  because  forbearing.  We  have 
a  decree — though  it  rests  amons^  our  archives  like  a  sword  in  its 
scabbard — a  decree  by  which  thy  life  would  be  made  to  pay 
the  forfeit  of  thy  crimes.  And,  should  I  order  thee  to  be  in- 
stantly seized  and  put  to  death,  I  make  just  doubt  whether  all 
good  men  would  not  think  it  done  rather  too  late,  than  any  man 
too  cruelly.  But,  for  good  reasons,  I  will  3'et  defer  the  blow, 
long  since  deserved.  Then  will  I  doom  thee,  when  no  man  is 
found  so  lost,  so  wicked,  nay,  so  like  thyself,  but  shall  confess 
that  it  was  justl}'  dealt.  While  there  is  one  man  that  dares 
defend  thee,  live!  But  thou  shalt  live  so  beset,  so  surrounded, 
so  scrutinized,  by  the  vigilant  guards  that  I  have  placed  around 
thee,  that  thou  shalt  not  stir  a  foot  against  the  Republic  without 
my   knowledge.      There   shall   be    eyes  to  detect  thy  slightest 


798 


LITERATURE. 


movement,  and  ears  to  catch  thy  wariest  whisper,  of  which 
thou  shalt  not  dream.  The  darkness  of  night  shall  not  cover 
thy  tieason — the  walls  of  privacy  shall  not  stifle  its  voice.  Baf- 
fled on  all  sides,  thy  most  secret  counsels  clear  as  noon-day,  what 
canst  thou  now  have  in  view.^  Proceed,  plot,  conspire,  as  thou 
wilt;  there  is  nothing  you  can  contrive,  nothing  you  can  propose, 
nothing  you  can  attempt  which  I  shall  not  know,  hear,  and 
promptly  understand.  Thou  shalt  soon  be  made  aware  that  i 
am  even  more  active  in  providing  for  the  preservation  of  the 
state  than  thou  in  plotting  its  destruction! — First  Oration. 


EXPULSION     op    CATILINE    FROM    ROJVIE. 

{B>j  Cicero.) 

At  length,  Romans,  we  are  rid  of  Catiline!  We  have 
driven  him  forth,  drunk  with  fury,  breathing  mischief,  threaten- 
ing to  revisit  us  with  fire  and  sword.  He  is  gone;  he  is  fled;  he 
has  escaped;  he  has  broken  away.  No  longer,  within  the  very 
walls  of  the  city,  shall  he  plot  her  ruin.  We  have  forced  him 
from  secret  plots  into  open  rebellion.  The  bad  citizen  is  now 
the  avowed  traitor.  His  flight  is  the  confession  of  his  treason! 
Would  that  his  attendants  had  not  been  so  few!  Be  speedy,  ye 
companions  of  his  dissolute  pleasures;  be  speed}',  and  3'ou  may 
overtake  him  before  night,  on  the  Aurelian  road.  Let  liim  not 
languish,  deprived  of  your  society.  Haste  to  join  the  congenial 
crew  that  compose  his  army;  his  army,  I  say — for  who  doubts 
that  the  army  under  Manlius  expect  Catiline  for  their  leader.^ 
And  such  an  army!  Outcasts  from  honor,  and  fugitives  from 
debt;  gamblers  and  felons;  miscreants,  whose  dreams  are  of 
rapine,  murder,  and  conflagration! 

Against  these  gallant  troops  of  your  adversary,  prepare,  O 
Romans,  your  garrisons   and   armies;  and   first  to  that   maimed 


EXPULSION    OF    CATILINE    FROM    ROME, 


799 


and  battered  gladiator  oppose  your  consuls  and  generals;  next, 
against  that  miserable,  outcast  horde,  lead  forth  the  strength  and 
flower  of  all  Italy!  On  the  one  side,  chastity  contends;  on  the 
other  wantonness;  here  purity,  there  pollution;  here  integrity, 
there  treachery;  here  piety,  there  profaneness;  here  constancy, 
there  rage;  here  honesty,  there  baseness;  here  continence,  there 
lust;  in  short,  equity,  temperance,  fortitude,  prudence,  struggle 
with  iniquity,  luxury,  cowardice,  rashness;  ev^er}'  virtue  with 
every  vice;  and,  lastly,  the  contest  lies  between  well-grounded 
hope  and  absolute  despair.  In  such  a  conflict,  were  even  human 
aid  to  fail,  would  not  the  immortal  gods  empower  such  conspicu- 
ous \'irtue  to  triumph  over  such  complicated  vice? — Second  Ora- 
tion. 


THE    TYI^ANT    PR^TOI^   DENOUNCED. 

{By  Cicero.) 

An  opinion  has  long  prevailed,  fathers,  that,  in  public  prose- 
cutions, men  of  wealth,  however  clearly  convicted,  are  always 
safe.  This  opinion,  so  injurious  to  your  order,  so  detrimental  to 
the  state,  is  now  in  your  power  to  refute.  A  man  is  on  trial 
before  you  who  is  rich,  and  who  hopes  his  riches  will  compass 
his  acquittal,  but  whose  life  and  actions  are  sufficient  condemna- 
tion in  the  eyes  of  all  candid  men.  I  speak  of  Caius  Verres, 
who,  if  he  now  receive  not  the  sentence  his  crimes  deserve,  it 
shall  not  be  through  the  lack  of  a  criminal  or  of  a  prosecutor, 
but  through  the  failure  of  the  ministers  of  justice  to  do  their 
duty.  Passing  over  the  shameful  irregularities  of  his  youth, 
what  does  the  quaestorship  of  Verres  exhibit  but  one  continued 
scene  of  villainies.^  The  public  treasure  squandered,  a  Consul 
stripped  and  betrayed,  an  arm}'  deserted  and  reduced  to  want, 
a  province  robbed,  the  civil    and  religious    rights    of  a  people 


8oO  LITERATURE. 

trampled  on!  But  his  praetorship  in  Sicily  has  crowned  his 
career  of  wickedness,  and  completed  the  lasting  monument  of  his 
infamy.  His  decisions  have  violated  all  law,  all  precedent,  all 
right.  His  extortions  from  the  industrious  poor  have  been  be- 
yond computation.  Our  most  faithful  allies  have  been  treated  as 
enemies,  Roman  citizens  have,  like  slaves,  been  put  to  death 
with  tortures.  Men  the  most  worthy  have  been  condemned  and 
banished  without  a  hearing,  while  the  most  atrocious  criminals 
have,  with  money,  purchased  exemption  from  the  punishment 
due  to  their  guilt. 

I  ask  now,  Verres,  what  have  you  to  advance  against  these 
charges?  Art  thou  not  the  tyrant  praetor,  who,  at  no  greater 
distance  than  Sicily,  within  sight  of  the  Italian  coast,  dared  to 
put  to  an  infamous  death,  on  the  cross,  that  ill-fated  and  innocent 
citizen,  Publius  Gavius  Cosanus.^  And  what  was  his  offense.'^ 
He  had  declared  his  intention  of  appealing  to  the  justice  of  his 
country  against  your  brutal  persecutions!  For  this,  when  about 
to  embark  for  home,  he  was  seized,  brought  before  you,  charged 
with  being  a  spy,  scourged  and  tortured.  In  vain  did  he  ex- 
claim: "  I  am  a  Roman  citizen!  I  have  served  under  Lucius 
Pretius,  who  is  now  at  Panormus,  and  who  will  attest  my  inno- 
cence!'' Deaf  to  all  remonstrance,  remorseless,  thirsting  fo' 
innocent  blood,  you  ordered  the  savage  punishment  to  be  in- 
flicted! While  the  sacred  words,  "  I  am  a  Roman  citizen,"  were 
on  his  lips — words  which,  in  the  reniotest  regions,  are  a  pass- 
port to  protection — you  ordered  him  to  death,  to  a  death  upon 
the  cross! 

O  liberty!  O  sound  once  delightful  to  every  Roman  ear! 
O  sacred  privilege  of  Roman  citizenship!  once  sacred — now 
trampled  on!  Is  it  come  to  this.^  Shall  an  inferior  magistrate 
— a  governor,  who  holds  his  whole  power  of  the  Roman  people 
— in  a  Roman  province,  within  sight  of  Ital}',  bind,  scourge,  tor- 
ture, and  put  to   an    infamous   death,   a   Roman   citizen.'^     Shall 


THE    TYRANT    PR^TOR    DENOUNCED.  8oi 

neither  the  cries  of  innocence  expiring  in  agony,  the  tears  of 
pitying  spectators,  the  majesty  of  the  Roman  commonweahh, 
nor  the  fear  of  the  justice  of  this  country,  restrain  the  merciless 
monster,  who,  in  the  confidence  of  his  riches,  strikes  at  the  very 
root  of  Hberty,  and  sets  mankind  at  defiance?  And  shall  this 
man  escape?  Fathers,  it  must  not  be!  It  must  not  be,  unless 
you  would  undermine  the  very  foundations  of  social  safety, 
strangle  justice,  and  call  down  anarchy,  massacre  and  ruin  on 
the  commonwealth. — Oration  against  Verres. 


ADVANTAQEg    OF    yVQE. 

{By    Cicero.) 

Indeed,  old  age  is  so  far  from  being  necessarily  a  state  of 
languor  and  inactivity,  that  it  generally  continues  to  exert  itself 
in  that  sort  of  occupation  which  was  the  favorite  object  of  its 
pursuit  in  more  vigorous  years.  I  will  add,  that  instances  might 
be  produced  of  men  who,  in  this  period  of  life,  have  successful  I}'' 
applied  themselves  even  to  the  acquisition  of  some  art  of  science 
to  which  they  were  before  entirely  strangers.  Thus  Solon  in 
one  of  his  poems,  written  when  he  was  advanced  in  years,  glories 
that  "he  learned  something  every  day  he  liv^ed."  And  old  as  I 
myself  am,  it  is  but  lately  that  I  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the 
Greek  language;  to  which  I  applied  with  the  more  zeal  and  dili- 
gence, as  I  had  long  entertained  an  earnest  desire  of  becoming 
acquainted  with  the  writings  and  characters  of  those  excellent 
men,  to  whose  examples  I  have  occasionally  appealed  in  the 
course  of  our  present  conversation.  Thus,  Socrates,  too,  in  his 
old  age,  learned  to  play  upon  the  lyre,  an  art  which  the  ancients 
did  not  deem  unworthy  of  their  application.  If  I  have  not  fol- 
lowed the  philosopher's  example  in  this  instance  (which,  indeed, 
51 


8o2  LITERATURE. 

I  very  much  regret),  I  have  spared,  however,  no  pains  to  make 
myself  master  of  the  Greek  language  and  learning. 

Inestimable,  too,  are  the  advantages  of  old  age,  if  we  con- 
template it  in  another  point  of  view;  if  we  consider  it  as  deliver- 
ing us  from  the  tyranny  of  lust  and  ambition;  from  the  angry 
and  contentious  passions;  from  every  inordinate  and  irrational 
desire;  in  a  word,  as  teaching  us  to  retire  within  ourselves,  and 
look  for  happiness  in  our  own  bosoms.  If  to  these  moral  bene- 
fits naturally  resulting  from  length  of  days  be  added  that  sweet 
food  of  the  mind  which  is  gathered  in  the  fields  of  science,  I 
know  not  any  season  of  life  that  is  passed  more  agreeably  than 
the  learned  leisure  of  a  virtuous  old  age. 


IMJVlOf^TALITY  OF   THE    SOUL. 

(By  Cicero  ) 

And  now,  among  the  different  sentiments  of  the  philosophers 
concerning  the  consequences  of  our  final  dissolution,  may  I  not 
venture  to  declare  my  own?  and  the  rather,  as  the  nearer  death 
advances  towards  me,  the  more  clearl}^  I  seem  to  discern  its  real 
nature. 

I  am  well  convinced,  then,  that  my  dear  departed  friends, 
your  two  illustrious  fathers,  are  so  far  from  having  ceased  to 
live,  that  the  state  they  now  enjoy  can  alone  with  propriety  be 
called  life.  The  soul,  during  her  confinement  within  this  prison 
of  the  body,  is  doomed  by  fate  to  undergo  a  severe  penance,  for 
her  native  seat  is  in  heaven,  and  it  is  with  reluctance  that  she  is 
forced  down  from  those  celestial  mansions  into  these  lower  re- 
gions, where  all  is  foreign  and  repugnant  to  her  divine  nature. 
But  the  gods,  I  am  persuaded,  have  thus  widely  disseminated 
immortal  spirits,  and  clothed  them  with  human  bodies,  that  mere 


IMMORTALITY    OF    THE    SOUL.  803 

might  be  a  race  of  intelligent  creatures,  not  only  to  have  domin- 
ion over  this,  our  earth,  but  to  contemplate  the  host  of  heaven, 
and  imitate  in  their  moral  conduct  the  same  beautiful  order  and 
uniformity  so  conspicuous. in  those  splendid  orbs.  This  opinion 
I  am  induced  to  embrace,  not  only  as  agreeable  to  the  best  de- 
ductions of  reason,  but  in  just  deference,  also,  to  the  authority 
of  the  noblest  and  most  distinguished  philosophers.  And  I  am 
further  confirmed  in  my  belief  of  the  souFs  immortality  by  the 
discourse  which  Socrates — whom  the  oracle  of  Apollo  pro- 
nounced to  be  the  wisest  of  men — held  upon  this  subject  just 
before  his  death.  In  a  word,  when  I  consider  the  faculties  with 
which  the  human  mind  is  endued;  its  amazing  celerity;  its  won- 
derful power  in  recollecting  past  events,  and  sagacit}^  in  discern- 
ing future;  together  with  its  numberless  discoveries  in  the  several 
arts  and  sciences,  I  feel  a  conscious  conviction  that  this  active, 
comprehensive  principle  can  not  possibly  be  of  a  mortal  nature. 
And  as  this  unceasing  activit}^  of  the  soul  derives  its  energy 
from  its  own  intrinsic  and  essential  powers,  without  receiving  it 
from  any  foreign  or  external  impulse,  it  necessarily  follows  (as  it 
is  absurd  to  suppose  the  soul  would  desert  itself)  that  this  ac- 
tivity must  continue  forever.  But  farther;  as  the  soul  is  evi- 
dently a  simple,  uncompounded  substance,  without  any  dissimilar 
parts  or  heterogeneous  mixture,  it  can  not,  therefore,  be  divided; 
consequently,  it  can  not  perish.  I  might  add,  that  the  facility 
and  expedition  with  which  3'Outh  are  taught  to  acquire  number- 
less very  difficult  arts,  is  a  strong  presumption  that  the  soul  pos- 
sessed a  considerable  portion  of  knowledge  before  it  entered  into 
the  human  form,  and  that  what  seems  to  be  received  from  in- 
struction is,  in  fact,  no  other  than  a  reminiscence  or  recollection 
of  its  former  ideas.     This,  at  least,  is  the  opinion  of  Plato. 


8o4  LITERATURE. 


JULIUS    CAE^AF}. 

Julius  Caesar  was  born  on  the  12th  of  July,  100  B.  C.  As 
to  his  intellectual  character,  Caesar  was  gifted  by  nature  with  the 
most  varied  talents,  and  was  distinguished  by  an  extraordinary 
genius,  and  by  attainments  in  very  diversified  pursuits.  He 
was,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  a  general,  a  statesman,  a  law- 
giver, a  jurist,  an  orator,  a  poet,  an  historian,  a  philologer,  a 
mathematician,  and  an  architect.  He  seemed  equally  fitted  to 
excel  in  all,  and  has  given  proofs  that  he  would  surpass  most 
men  in  any  subject  to  which  he  should  devote  the  energies 
of  his  great  mind;  and  Middleton  says  he  was  the  only  man  in 
Rome  capable  of  rivaling  Cicero  as  an  orator.  During  his 
whole  busy  life  he  found  time  for  literary  pursuits,  and  always 
took  pleasure  in  the  society  and  conversation  of  men  of  learning. 

Cccsar  wrote  many  works  on  different  subjects,  but  they  are 
now  all  lost  but  his  "  Commentaries."  These  relate  the  history 
of  the  first  seven  years  of  the  Gallic  War  in  seven  books,  and  the 
Civil  War  down  to  the  commencement  of  the  Alexandrine  in 
three  books.  The  purity  of  his  Latin,  and  the  clearness  and 
beauty  of  his  style  have  rendered  his  "  Commentaries  "  a  most 
popular  and  desirable  text  book  for  students  of  the  Latin  lan- 
guage. 

A  most  important  change  was  introduced  by  him  in  the 
reformation  of  the  calendar,  which  was  not  only  of  vast  import- 
ance to  his  country  and  to  the  civilized  world,  but  its  benefits 
have  extended  to  the  present  day.  What  consummate  folly, 
then,  to  say  nothing  of  the  wickedness,  was  displayed  by  the 
conspirators  who  put  him  to  death;  for  instead  of  the  wise,  the 
noble,  the  magnanimous,  thcv  cxnltod  to  sujircme  power  one  of 
the  basest  men  in  all  Rome — Augustus,  who,  as  one  of  the  sec- 


JULIUS    C^SAR. 


805 


ond  Triumvirate,  consented  to  the   murder  of  his  intimate  and 
noble  tViend,  Cicero. 


JULIUS  c^SAR.     {From  ail  Aacieiit  Sculpturing.) 


THE    QEI^MAN^ 

{By  Julius  Ccesar.) 

The  Germans  differ  much  tVoni  these  usages,  for  they  have 
neither  Druids  to  preside  over  sacred  offices,  nor  do  they  pay 
great  regard  to  sacrifices.  They  rank  in  the  number  ot  the 
gods  those  alone  whom  they  behold,  and  by  whose  instrumental- 
ity they  are  obvioush'  benefited,  namely,  the  sun,  fire,  and  the 
moon;  they  have  not  heard  of  the  other  deities   even  by  report. 


So6  LITERATURE. 

Their  whole  Hfe  is  occupied  in  hunting  and  in  the  pursuits  of  the 
mihtary  art;  from  childhood  they  devote  themselves  to  fatigue 
and  hardships.  Those  who  have  remained  chaste  for  the  longest 
time  receive  the  greatest  commendation  among  their  people; 
the\-  think  that  by  this  the  growth  is  promoted,  by  this  the  phys- 
ical powers  are  increased  and  the  sinews  are  strengthened. 

They  do  not  pay  much  attention  to  agriculture,  and  a  large 
portion  of  their  food  consists  in  milk,  cheese,  and  flesh;  nor  has 
any  one  a  fixed  quantity  of  land  or  his  own  individual  limits;  but 
the  magistrates  and  the  leading  men  each  year  apportion  to  the 
tribes  and  families,  who  have  united  together,  as  much  land  as, 
and  in  the  place  which,  they  think  proper,  and  the  3'ear  after 
compel  them  to  remove  elsewhere.  For  this  enactment  they 
advance  many  reasons — lest  seduced  by  long-continued  custom, 
they  may  exchange  their  ardor  in  the  waging  of  war  for  agri- 
culture; lest  they  may  be  anxious  to  acquire  extensive  estates, 
and  the  more  powerful  drive  the  weaker  from  their  possessions; 
lest  they  construct  their  houses  with  too  great  a  desire  to  avoid 
cold  and  heat;  lest  the  desire  of  wealth  spring  up,  from  which 
cause  divisions  and  discords  arise;  and  that  they  may  keep  the 
common  people  in  a  contented  state  of  mind,  when  each  sees  his 
own  means  placed  on  an  equality  with  those  of  the  most  power- 
ful. 

It  is  the  greatest  glory  to  the  several  states  to  have  as  wide 
deserts  as  possible  around  them,  their  frontiers  having  been  laid 
waste.  They  consider  this  the  real  evidence  of  their  prowess, 
that  their  neighbors  shall  be  driven  out  of  their  lands  and  aban- 
don them,  and  that  no  one  dare  settle  near  them;  at  the  same 
time  they  think  that  the}'  shall  be  on  that  account  the  more 
secure,  because  they  have  removed  the  apprehension  of  a  sudden 
incursion.  When  a  state  either  repels  war  waged  against  it,  or 
wages  it  against  another,  magistrates  are  chosen  to  preside  over 
that  war  with  such   authority  that  they  have  power  of  life   and 


THE    GERMANS.  807 

death.  In  peace  there  is  no  common  magistrate,  but  the  chiefs 
of  provinces  and  cantons  administer  justice  and  determine  con- 
troversies among  their  own  people.  Robberies  which  are  com- 
mitted beyond  the  boundaries  of  each  state  bear  no  infamy,  and 
they  avow  that  these  are  committed  for  the  purpose  of  disciplin- 
ing their  youth  and  of  preventing  sloth.  And  when  any  of  their 
chiefs  has  said  in  an  assembly  "  that  he  will  be  their  leader,  let 
those  who  are  willing  to  follow  give  in  their  names,''  they  who 
approve  of  both  the  enterprise  and  the  man  arise  and  promise 
their  assistance  and  are  applauded  by  the  people;  such  of  them 
as  have  not  followed  him  are  accounted  in  the  number  of  desert- 
ers and  traitors,  and  confidence  in  all  matters  is  afterwards  re- 
fused them.  To  injure  guests  they  regard  as  impious;  they 
defend  from  wrong  those  who  have  come  to  them  for  any  purpose 
whatever,  and  esteem  them  inviolable;  to  them  the  houses  of  all 
are  open  and  maintenance  is  freely  supplied 


BATTLE  Of    PHARgALIA. 

•  {By  Julius  Casar.) 

There  was  so  much  space  left  between  the  two  lines  as  suf- 
ficed for  the  onset  of  the  hostile  armies;  but  Pompey  had  ordered 
his  soldiers  to  await  Csesar's  attack,  and  not  to  advance  from 
their  position,  or  suffer  their  line  to  be  put  into  disorder.  And 
he  is  said  to  have  done  this  by  the  advice  of  Caius  Triarius,  that 
the  impetuosity  of  the  charge  of  Caesar's  soldiers  might  be 
checked,  and  their  line  broken,  and  that  Pompey's  troops,  re- 
maining in  their  ranks,  might  attack  them  while  in  disorder;  and 
he  thought  that  the  javelins  would  fall  with  less  force  if  the 
soldiers  were  kept  in  their  ground,  than  if  they  met  them  in  their 
course;  at  the  same  time  he  trusted  that   Caesar's  soldiers,  after 


8o8  LITERATURE. 

running  over  double  the  usual  ground,  would  become  weary  and 
exhausted  by  the  fatigue.  But  to  me  Pompey  seems  to  have 
acted  without  sufficient  reason;  for  there  is  a  certain  impetuosity 
of  spirit  and  an  alacrity  implanted  by  nature  in  the  hearts  of  all 
men,  which  is  inflamed  by  a  desire  to  meet  the  foe.  This  a  gen- 
eral should  endeavor  not  to  repress,  but  to  increase;  nor  was  it  a 
vain  institution  of  our  ancestors  that  the  trumpets  should  sound 
on  all  sides,  and  a  general  shout  be  raised;  by  which  they  im- 
agined that  the  enemy  were  struck  with  terror,  and  their,  own 
armv  inspired  with  courage. 

But  our  men,  when  the  signal  was  given,  rushed  forward 
with  their  javelins  ready  to  be  launched,  but  perceiving  that 
Pompey's  men  did  not  run  to  meet  their  charge,  having  acquired 
experience  by  custom,  and  being  practiced  in  tbrmer  battles, 
they  of  their  own  accord  repressed  their  speed,  and  halted 
almost  midway,  that  they  might  not  come  up  w^ith  the  enemy 
when  their  strength  was  exhausted,  and  after  a  short  respite  they 
again  renewed  their  course,  and  threw  their  javelins,  and  in- 
stantly drew  their  swords,  as  Caesar  had  ordered  them.  Nor 
did  Pompey's  men  fail  in  this  crisis,  for  they  received  our  jave- 
lins, stood  our  charge,  and  maintained  their  ranks;  and  having 
launched  their  javelins,  had  recourse  to  their  swords.  At  the 
same  time  Pompey's  horse,  according  to  their  orders,  rushed  out 
at  once  from  his  left  wing,  and  his  whole  host  of  archers  poured 
after  them.  Our  cavalry  did  not  withstand  their  charge,  but  gave 
ground  a  little,  upon  which  Pompey's  horse  pressed  them  more 
vigorously,  and  began  to  file  off  in  troops,  and  flank  our  army. 
When  Cccsar  perceived  this,  he  gave  the  signal  to  his  fourth  line, 
which  he  had  formed  of  the  six  cohorts.  They  instantl}^  rushed 
forward  and  charged  Pompey's  horse  with  such  fur}'  that  not  a 
man  of  them  stood;  but  all  wheeling  about,  not  only  quitted 
their  post,  but  galloped  forward  to  seek  a  refuge  in  the  highest 
mountains.     By  their  retreat  the  archers  and  slingers,  being  left 


BATTLE    OF    PHARSALIA.  809 

destitute  and  defenseless,  were  all  cut  to  pieces.  The  cohorts, 
pursuing  their  success,  wheeled  about  upon  Pompey's  left  wing, 
whilst  his  infantry  still  continued  to  make  battle,  and  attacked 
them  in  the  rear. 

At  the  same  time  Caesar  ordered  his  third  line  to  advance, 
which  till  then  had  not  been  engaged,  but  had  kept  their  post. 
Thus,  new  and  fresh  troops  having  come  to  the  assistance  of  the 
fatigued,  and  others  having  made  an  attack  on  their  rear,  Pom- 
pey's men  were  not  able  to.  maintain  their  ground,  but  all  fled, 
nor  was  Caesar  deceived  in  his  opinion  that  the  victory,  as  he 
had  declared  in  his  speech  to  his  soldiers,  must  have  its  begin- 
ning from  those  six  cohorts,  which  he  had  placed  as  a  fourth  line 
to  oppose  the  horse.  For  by  them  the  cavalry  were  routed;  by 
them  the  archers  and  slingers  were  cut  to  pieces;  by  them  the 
left  wing  of  Pompey's  army  was  surrounded,  and  obliged  to  be 
the  first  to  flee.  But  when  Pompey  saw  his  cavalry  routed,  and 
that  part  of  his  army  on  which  he  reposed  his  greatest  hopes 
thrown  into  confusion,  despairing  of  the  rest,  he  quitted  the  field, 
and  retreated  straightway  on  horseback  to  his  camp,  and  calling 
to  the  centurions,  whom  he  had  placed  to  guard  the  praetorian 
gate,  with  a  loud  voice,  that  the  soldiers  might  hear:  "■  Secure 
the  camp,"  says  he;  "  defend  it  with  diligence,  if  anv  danger 
should  threaten  it;  I  will  visit  the  other  gates,  and  encourage  the 
guards  of  the  camp."  Having  thus  said,  he  retired  into  his  tent 
in  utter  despair,  3'et  anxiously  waiting  the  issue. 

Caesar  having  forced  the  Pompeians  to  flee  into  their  en- 
trenchment, and  thinking  that  he  ought  not  to  allow  them  any 
respite  to  recover  from  their  fright,  exhorted  his  soldiers  to 
take  advantage  of  fortune's  kindness,  and  to  attack  the  camp. 
Though  they  were  fatigued  by  the  intense  heat,  for  the  battle 
had  continued  till  mid-day,  yet,  being  prepared  to  undergo  any 
labor,  they  cheerfully  obeyed  his  command.  The  camp  was 
bravely  defended  by  the  cohorts  which  had  been  left  to  guard  it, 


8lO  LITERATURE. 

but  with  much  more  spirit  by  the  Thracians  and  foreign  auxil- 
iaries. For  the  soldiers  who  had  fled  lor  refuge  to  it  from  the 
field  of  battle,  affrighted  and  exhausted  by  fatigue,  having 
thrown  away  their  arms  and  military  standards,  had  their 
thoughts  more  engaged  on  their  further  escape  than  on  the  de- 
fense of  the  camp.  Nor  could  the  troops  who  were  posted  on 
the  battlements  long  withstand  the  immense  number  oi"  our  darts, 
but  fainting  under  their  wounds,  quitted  the  place,  and  under  the 
conduct  of  their  centurions  and  tribunes,  fled,  without  stopping, 
to  the  high  mountains  which  joined  the  camp. 

In  Pompey's  camp  you  might  see  arbors  in  which  tables 
were  laid;  a  large  quantity  of  plate  set  out;  the  floors  of  the 
tents  covered  with  fresh  sods;  the  tents  of  Lucius  Lentulus  and 
others  shaded  with  ivy;  and  many  other  things  which  were 
proofs  of  excessive  luxury,  and  a  confidence  of  victory;  so  that 
it  might  readily  be  inferred,  that  they  had  no  apprehensions  of 
the  issue  of  the  day,  as  they  indulged  themselves  in  unnecessary 
pleasures,  and  yet  upbraided  with  luxury  Caesar's  army,  dis- 
tressed and  suflbring  troops,  who  had  alwa3's  been  in  want  of 
common  necessaries.  Pompey,  as  soon  as  our  men  had  forced 
the  trenches,  mounting  his  horse,  and  stripping  oflf  his  general's 
habit,  went  hastily  out  of  the  back  gate  of  the  camp,  and  gal- 
loped with  all  speed  to  Larissa.  Nor  did  he  stop  there,  but 
with  the  same  dispatch,  collecting  a  few  of  his  flying  troops,  and 

9 

halting  neither  day  nor  night,  he  arrived  at  the  sea-side,  attended 
by  only  thirty  horses,  and  went  on  board  a  victualing  barque, 
often  complaining,  as  we  have  been  told,  that  he  had  been  so 
deceived  in  his  expectation,  that  he  was  almost  persuaded  that 
he  had  been  betra^'ed  by  those  from  whom  he  had  expected  vic- 
tory, as  they  began  the  flight. 


VIRGIL.  8n 

vii^qiL. 

Virgil  was  born  October  15,  70  B.  C,  and  died  19  B.  C. 
His  father  was  an  opulent  farmer,  and  gave  his  son  a  Hberal 
Greek  and  Latin  education.  His  principal  works  were  the 
Georgica  and  the  y^neid.  The  Georgica  (Georgics),  or  "Agri- 
cultural Poems,"  is  a  didactic  poem  in  four  books,  dedicated  to 
Maecenas.  In  the  first  book  he  treats  of  the  cultivation  of  the 
soil;  in  the  second,  of  fruit  trees;  in  the  third,  of  horses  and 
yther  cattle,  and  in  the  fourth,  of  bees.  It  gives  us  the  most 
finished  specimen  of  the  Latin  hexameter  which  we  have.  It  is 
acknowledged  by  scholars  to  stand  at  the  head  of  all  Virgil's 
works,  and  is  certainly  the  most  elaborate  and  extraordinary  in- 
stance of  power  in  embellishing  a  most  barren  subject  which 
human  genius  has  ever  afforded.  The  commonest  precepts  of 
farming  are  delivered  with  an  elegance  which  could  scarcely  be 
attained  by  ^  poet  who  should  endeavor  to  clothe  in  verse  the 
sublimest  maxims  of  philosophy. 

At  what  time  Virgil  projected  the  ^^neid  is  uncertain,  but 
from  a  very  early  age  he  appears  to  have  had  a  strong  desire  of 
composing  an  epic  poem  which  would  be  an  enduring  monument 
of  his  fame.  And  he  has  succeeded,  for  this  poem  is  ranked  as 
one  of  the  great  epics  of  the  world.  It  is  divided  into  twelve 
books,  and  originates  from  an  old  Roman  tradition  that  ^neas 
and  his  company  of  Trojans  settled  in  Italy,  and  founded  the 
Roman  nation. 


.     PRAISE    op  RUI^AL  LIFE. 

(Sy  Virgil.) 

Thrice  happy  swaitis!  whom  genuine  pleasures  bless, 
If  they  but  knew  and  felt  their  happiness! 


8l2  LITERATURE. 

From  wars  and  discord  far,  and  public  strife, 

Earth  with  salubrious  fruits  supports  their  life; 

Tho'  high-arch'd  domes,  tho'  marble  halls  they  want, 

And  columns  cased  in  gold  and  elephant. 

In  awful  ranks  where  brazen  statues  stand. 

The  polish'd  works  of  Grecia's  skillful  hand; 

Nor  dazzling  palace  view,  whose  portals  proud 

Each  morning  vomit  out  the  cringing  crowd; 

Nor  wear  the  tissu'd  garment's  cumb'rous  pride, 

Nor  seek  soft  wool  in  Syrian  purple  dy'd, 

Nor  with  fantastic  luxury  defile 

The  native  sweetness  of  the  liquid  oil; 

Yet  calm  content,  secure  from  guilty  cares, 

Yet  home-felt  pleasure,  peace,  and  rest,  are  theirs; 

Leisure  and  ease,  in  groves,  and  cooling  vales. 

Grottoes,  and  bubbling  brooks,  and  darksome  dales; 

The  lowing  oxen,  and  the  bleating  sheep, 

And  under  branching  trees  delicious  sleep! 

There  forests,  lawns,  and  haunts  of  beasts  abound, 

There  youth  is  temperate,  and  laborious  found; 

There  altars  and  the  righteous  gods  are  fear'd. 

And  aged  sires  by  duteous  sons  rever'd. 

There  Justice  linger'd  ere  she  fled  mankind, 

And  left  some  traces  of  her  reign  behind! 

Georgics  II.     Warton. 


EJVIPLOYMEJNTp  OF  THE  BEE. 

(By    Virgil.) 

If  all  things  with  great  we  may  compare, 
Such  are  the  bees,  and  such  their  busy  care: 
Studious  of  honey,  each  in  his  degree, 
The  youthful  swain,  the  grave,  experienced  bee; 
That  in  the  field;  this  in  affairs  of  state. 
Employed  at  home,  abides  within  the  gate. 
To  fortify  the  combs,  to  build  the  wall. 


EMPLOYMENT    OF    THE    BEE- 


«i3 


To  prop  the  ruins,  lest  the  fabric  fall: 

But  late  at  night,  with  weary  pinioDS  come 


VIRG{L    AND   HOKACE. 


The  laboring  youth,  and  heavy  laden   home. 
Plains,  meads,  and  orchards,  all  the  day  he  plies, 


8l4  LITERATURE. 

The  gleans  of  yellow  thyme  distend  his  thighs: 

He  spoils  the  saftVon  flowers,  he  sips  the  blues 

Of  violets,  wilding  blooms,  and  willow  dews. 

Their  toil  is  common,  common  is  their  sleep; 

They  shake  their  wings  when  morn  begins  to  peep; 

Rush  through  the  city  gates  without  delay, 

Nor  ends  their  work  but  with  declining  day: 

Then,  having  spent  the  last  remains  of  light, 

They  give  their  bodies  due  repose  at  night; 

When  hollow  murmurs  of  their  evening  bells 

Dismiss  the  sleepy  swains,  and  toll  them  to  their  cells. 

Georgics  IV.     Dry  den. 


PUNISHMENTS    IN     HELL. 

{By  Virgil.) 

Now  to  the  left,  ^neas  darts  his  eyes. 
Where  lofty  walls  with  tripple  ramparts  rise. 
There  rolls  swift  Phlegethon,  with  thund'ring  sound, 
His  broken  rocks,  and  whirls  his  surges  round. 
On  mighty  columns  rais'd,  sublime  are  hung 
The  massy  gates,  impenetrably  strong. 
In  vain  would  men,  in  vain  would  gods  essay, 
To  hew  the  beams  of  adamant  away. 
Here  rose  an  iron  tow'r;   before  the  gate. 
By  night  and  day,  a  wakeful  fury  sate, 
The  pale  Tisiphone;   a  robe  she  wore. 
With  Jill  the  pomp  of  horror,  dy'd  in  gore. 
Here  iho  loud  scourge  and  louder  voice  of  pain, 
The  crashing  fetter,  and  the  ratt'ling  chain, 
Strike   the  great  hero  with  the  frightful  sound, 
The  hoarse,  rough,  mingled  din,  that  thunders  round: 
Oh!   whence  that  peal  of  groans?  what  pains  are  those? 
What  crimes  could  merit  such  stupendous  woes? 

Thus  she — brave  guardian  of  the  Trojan  state. 
None  that  are  pure  must  pass  that  dreadful  gate. 


PUNISHMENTS    IN    HELL.  815 

When  plac'd  by  Hecat  o'er  Avernus'  woods, 
I  learnt  the  secrets  of  those  dire  abodes, 
With  all  the  tortures  of  the  vengeful  gods. 
Here  Rhadanianthus  holds  his  awful  reign, 
H(!ars  and  condemns  the  trembling  impious  train. 
Those  hidden  crimes  the  wretch  till  death  supprest, 
With  mingled  joy  and  horror  in  his  breast. 
The  stern  dread  judge  commands  him  to  display, 
And  lays  the  guilty  secrets  bare  to-day; 
Her  lash  Tisiphone  that  moment  shakes; 
The  ghost  she  scourges  with  a  thousand  snakes; 
Then  to  her  aid,  with  many  a  thund  ring  yell, 
Calls  her  dire  sisters  from  the  gulfs  of  hell. 

Near  by  the  mighty  Tityus  I  beheld. 
Earth's  mighty  giant  son,  stretch'd  o'er  the  infernal  field; 
He  cover'd  nine  large  acres  as  he  lay. 
While  with  fierce  screams  a  vulture  tore  away 
His  liver  for  her  food,  and  scoop'd  the  smoking  prey; 
Plunged  deep  her  bloody  beak,  nor  plu^ig'd  in  vain, 
For  still  the  fruitful  fibres  spring  again. 
Swell,  and  renew  th'  enormous  monster's  pain, 
She  dwells  forever  in  his  roomy  breast, 
Nor  gives  the  roaring  fiend  a  moment's  rest; 
But  still  th'  immortal  prey  supplies  th'  immortal  feast. 
Need  I  the  Lapiths'  horrid  pains  relate, 
Ixion's  torments,  or  Perithous' fate? 
On  high  a  tottering  rocky  fragment  spreads. 
Projects  in  air,  and  trembles  o'er  their  heads. 
Stretch'd  on  the  couch,  they  see  with  longing  eyes 
In  regal  pomp  successive  banquets  rise. 
While   lucid  columns,  glorious  to  behold. 
Support  th'  imperial  canopies  of  gold. 
The  queen  of  furies,  a  tremendous  guest, 
Sits  by  their  side,  and  guards  the  tempting  feast, 
Which  if  they  toi'ch,  her  dreadful  torch  she  rears. 
Flames  in  their  eyes,  and  thunders  in  their  ears. 
They  that  on  earth  had  low  pursuits  in  view. 
Their  brethren  hated,  or  their  parents  slew. 
And,  still  more  numerous,  those  who  swelled  their  store, 


!i\6  LITERATURE. 

But  ne'er  reliev'd  their  kindred  or  the  poor; 

Or  in  a  cause  unrighteous  fought  and  bled; 

Or  perish'd  in  the  foul  adulterous  bed; 

Or  broke  the  ties  of  faith  with  base  deceit; 

Imprison'd  deep  their  destin'd  torments  wait. 

But  what  their  torments,  seek  not  thou  to  know, 

Or  the  dire  sentence  of  their  endless  wo. 

Some  roll  a  stone,  rebounding  down  the  hill, 

Some  hang  suspended  on  the  whirling  wheel; 

There  Theseus  groans  in  pain  that  ne'er  expire, 

Chain'd  down  forever  in  a  chair  of  fire. 

There  Phlegyas  feels  unutterable  wo. 

And  roars  incessant  thro'  the  shades  below; 

Be  just,  ye  mortals!  by  these  torments  aw'a, 

These  dreadful  torments,  not  to  scorn  a  god. 

This  wretch  his  country  to  a  tyrant  sold, 

And  barter'd  glorious  liberty  for  gold. 

Laws  for  a  bribe  he  past,  but  past  in  vain, 

For  those  same  laws  a  bribe  repeal'd  again. 

To  some  enormous  crimes  they  all  aspir'd; 

All  feel  the  torments  that  those  crimes  requir'd! 

Had  I  a  hundred  mouths,  a  hundred  tongues, 

A  voice  of  brass,  and  adamantine  lungs. 

Not  half  the  mighty  scene  could  I  disclose, 

Hepeat  their  crimes,  or  count  their  dreadful  woes! 

^neid   VI.    I'itt, 


HORACE. 

Horace  was  born  65  B.  C.  and  died  8  B.  C.  His  father 
gave  him  a  g(X)d  education.  About  the  age  of  seventeen  he  lost 
his  father,  and  afterwards  his  property  was  confiscated.  He 
had  to  write  for  bread — Paupertas  impulit  audax  ut  versus 
facer  em — and  in  so  doing  gained  much  reputation,  and  sufficient 
means  ;o  purchase  the  place  of  scribe  in   the   Qusestor^s   office. 


HORACE.  817 

He  now  made  his  acquaintance  with  Virgil  and  Varius,  and  by 
them  was  introduced  to  that  mvmificent  patron  of  scholars, 
Maecenas,  who  gave  to  our  poet  a  place  next  to  his  heart,  while 
he,  in  return,  is  never  weary  of  acknowledging  how  much  he 
owes  to  his  illustrious  friend. 

The  following  happy  remarks  on  the  Roman  Satirists  are 
by  Professor  Sanborn,  formerly  Professor  of  Latin  in  Dartmouth 
College,  and  now  in  the  University  of  St.  Louis:  "The  princi- 
pal Roman  Satirists  were  Horace,  Juvenal  and  Persius.  Horace 
is  merry;  Persius  serious;  Juvenal  indignant.  Thus,  wit,  philoso- 
phy and  lofty  scorn  mark  their  respective  pages.  The  satire  of 
Horace  was  playful  and  good  natured.  His  arrows  were  always 
dipped  in  oil.  He  was  a  fine  specimen  of  an  accomplished  gen- 
tleman. His  sentiments  were  evidently  modified  by  his  asso- 
ciates. He  was  an  Epicurean  and  a  stoic  by  turns.  He  com- 
mended and  ridiculed  both  sects.  He  practiced  economy  and 
praised  liberality.  He  lived  temperate,  and  sang  the  praises  of 
festivity.  He  was  the  favorite  of  the  court  and  paid  for  its 
patronage  in  compliments  and  panegyrics,  unsurpassed  in  delicacy 
of  sentiment  and  beauty  of  expression.  Horace  is  every  man^s 
companion.  He  has  a  word  of  advice  and  admonition  ibr  all. 
His  criticisms  constitute  most  approved  canons  of  the  rhetori- 
cian; his  sage  reflections  adorn  the  page  of  the  moralist;  his 
humor  and  wit  give  point  and  force  to  the  satirist,  and  his  graver 
maxims  are  not  despised  by  the  Christian  philosopher.  Juvenal 
is  fierce  and  denunciator}^  His  characteristics  are  energy, 
force,  and  indignation;  his  weapons  are  irony,  wit  and  sarcasm; 
he  is  a  decided  character,  and  you  must  yield  and  submit,  or 
resist.  His  denunciations  of  vice  are  startling-.  He  hated  the 
Greeks,  the  aristocracy  and  woman  with  intense  hatred.  No 
author  has  written  with  such  terrible  bitterness  of  the  sex.  Un- 
like other  satirists,  he  never  relents.  His  arrow  is  ever  on  the 
string,  and  whatever  wears  the  guise  of  woman  is  his  game. 
52 


LITERATURE. 


The  most  celebrated  of   the  modern  imitators  of  Horace  and 
Juvenal  are  Swift  and  Pope." 

The  Odes,  Satires  and  Epistles  are  his  chief  productions. 


TO  LlCIJ^lUg. 

{By  Horace.) 

Receive,  dear  friend,  the  truths  I  teach 
So  shaltthou  live  beyond  the  reach 

Of  adverse  Fortune's  power; 
Not  always  tempt  the  distant  deep, 
Nor  always  timorously  creep 

Along  the  treacherous  shore. 

He  that  holds  fast  the  golden  mean, 
And  lives  contentedly  between 

The  little  and  the  great. 
Feels  not  the  wants  that  pinch  the  poor, 
Nor  plagues  that  haunt  the  rich  man's  door, 

Embittering  all  his  state. 

The  tallest  pines  feel  most  the  power 
Of  wintry  blasts;  the  loftiest  tower 

Comes  heaviest  to  the  ground; 
The  bolts  that  spare  the  mountain's  side, 
His  cloud-capt  eminence  divide, 

And  spread  the  ruin  round. 

The  well-inform'd  philosopher 
Rejoices  with  an  wholesome  fear. 

And  hopes,  in  spite  of  pain; 
If  Winter  bellow  from  the  north, 
Soon  the  sweet  Spring  comes  dancing  forth, 

And  Nature  laughs  again. 


TO    LICINIUS.  ,  819 


What  if  thine  heaven  be  overcast? 
The  dark  appearance  will  not  last; 

Expect  a  brighter  sky; 
The  god,  that  strings  the  silver  bow, 
Awakes  sometimes  the  Muses,  too, 

And  lays  his  arrows  by. 

If  hindrances  obstruct  thy  way. 
Thy  magnanimity  display, 

And  let  thy  strength  be  seen; 
But  oh!  if  Fortune  fill  thy  sail 
With  more  than  a  propitious  gale, 

Take  half  thy  canvas  in. 


Cowper. 


TO    PYI^F^HA. 

(By  Horace.) 

What  youth,  O  Pyrrha!  blooming  fair, 
With  rose-twined  wreath  and  perfumed  hair, 
Woos  thee  beneath  yon  grotto's  shade, 

Urgent  in  prayer  and  amorous  glance? 
For  whom  dost  thou  thy  tresses  braid, 

Simple  in  thine  elegance? 
Alas!  full  soon  shall  he  deplore 

Thy  broken  faith,  thy  altered  mien: 
Like  one  astonished  at  the  roar 
Of  breakers  on  a  leeward  shore, 

Whom  gentle  airs  and  skies  serene 
Had  tempted  on  the  treacherous  deep, 
So  he  thy  perfidy  shall  weep 
Who  now  enjoys  thee  fair  and  kind, 
But  dreams  not  of  the  shifting  wind. 
Thrice  wretched  they,  deluded  and  betrayed, 
Who  trust  thy  glittering  smile  and  Siren  tongue! 
I  have  escaped  the  shipwreck,  and  have  hung 


820  LITERATURE. 


In  Neptune's  fane  my  dripping  vest  displayed 
With  votive  tablet  on  his  altar  laid, 
Thanking  the  sea-god  for  his  timely  aid. 

Lord  Havensworth. 


SENECA. 

Seneca  was  born  7  B.  C.  and  died  65  A.  D.  His  writings 
were  of  a  philosophical  nature.  His  character  was  much 
doubted.  His  great  misibrtune  was  to  have  known  Nero,  who 
ordered  him  to  be  put  to  death,  to  which  he  merely  replied  that 
he  who  had  murdered  his  brother  and  his  mother  could  not  be 
expected  to  spare  his  teacher.  He  had  been  absent  from  Rome 
some  time,  and  when  he  returned  to  visit  his  mother  in  the 
country,  he  was  spied,  and  Nero  sent  a  squad  of  armed  men 
to  the  house  to  ask  him  to  choose  the  manner  of  his  death. 
His  fame  rests  on  his  numerous  writings,  which,  with  all  their 
faults,  have  great  merits.  His  principal  works,  which  are  of 
a  philosophical  character,  are  essays  "On  Anger,"  "On 
Consolation,"  "  On  Providence,"  "  On  Tranquillity  of  Mind," 
"On  the  Firmness  of  the  Wise  Man,"  "On  Clemenc}'," 
"  On  the  Brevity  of  Human  Life,"  "  On  a  Happy  Life," 
etc.,  together  with  "  Epistles  of  Lucilius,"  one  hundred  and 
twenty-four  in  number.  Besides  these,  there  are  extant  ten 
tragedies  attributed  to  him,  entitled,  Hercules  Furens^  Thyestes^ 
Thehais  or  Phoenissce^  Hippolytus  or  Plicpdra^  Gldipus^ 
Troades  or  Hecuba^  Medea^  A^ame?nnon^  Hercules  CEtcBus 
and  Octavia.  These  were  never  intended  for  the  stage,  but 
were  designed  for  reading  or  recitation,  after  the  Roman 
fashion.  They  contain  many  striking  passages,  and  have  some 
merits  as  poems. 


HAPPINESS    FOUNDED    ON    WISDOM.  82 1 

HyVPPIJ^E^g  FOUNDED  ON   WISDOJVl. 

{By  Seneca.) 

Taking  it  for  granted  that  human  happiness  is  founded  upon 
tvisdom  and  virtue^  we  shall  treat  of  these  two  points  in  order 
as  they  lie,  and^r.?/  of  tvisdom;  not  in  the  latitude  of  its  vari- 
ous operations,  but  only  as  it  has  a  regard  to  good  life  and  the 
happiness  of  mankind. 

Wisdom  is  a  right  understanding;  a  faculty  of  discerning 
good  from  evil;  what  is  to  be  chosen,  and  what  rejected;  a  judg- 
ment grounded  upon  the  value  of  things,  and  not  the  common 
opinion  of  them;  an  equality  of  force  and  strength  of  resolution. 
It  sets  a  watch  over  our  words  and  deeds,  it  takes  us  up  with  the 
contemplation  of  the  works  of  nature,  and  makes  us  invincible 
by  either  good  or  evil  fortune.  It  is  large  and  spacious,  and  re- 
quires a  great  deal  of  room  to  work  in;  it  ransacks  heaven  and 
earth;  it  has  for  its  object  things  past  and  to  come,  transitory  and 
eternal.  It  examines  all  the  circumstances  of  time;  "what  it  is, 
when  it  began,  and  how  long  it  will  continue;"  and  so  for  the 
mind;  "whence  it  came;  what  it  is;  when  it  begins;  how  long  it 
lasts ;  whether  or  no  it  passes  from  one  form  to  another,  or  serves 
only  one,  and  wanders  when  it  leaves  us;  where  it  abides  in  the 
state  of  separation,  and  what  the  action  of  it;  what  use  it  makes 
of  its  liberty;  whether  or  no  it  retains  the  memory  of  things 
past,  and  comes  to  the  knowledge  of  itself"  It  is  the  habit  of 
a  perfect  mind  and  the  perfection  of  humanity,  raised  as  high  as 
nature  can  carry  it.  It  differs  from  philosophy^  as  avarice  and 
mone}^;  the  one  desires,  and  the  other  is  desired;  the  one  is  the 
effect  and  the  reward  of  the  other.  To  be  wise  is  the  use  of 
wisdom,  as  seeing  is  the  use  of  eyes  and  well-speaking  the  use 
of  eloquence.  He  that  is  perfectly  wise  is  perfectly  happy;  nay, 
the  very  beginning  of  wisdom  makes  life   easy  to  us.     Neither 


822  LITERATURE. 

is  it  enough  to  know  this,  unless  we  print  it  in  our  minds  by- 
daily  meditation,  and  so  bring  a  good  will  to  a  good  habit. 
And  we  must  practice  what  we  preach,  for  philosophy  is  not  a 
subject  for  popular  ostentation,  nor  does  it  rest  in  words,  but  in 
things.  It  is  not  an  entertainment  taken  up  for  delight,  or  to 
give  a  taste  to  leisure,  but  it  fashions  the  mind,  governs  our  ac- 
tions, tells  us  what  we  are  to  do,  and  what  not.  It  sits  at  the 
helm,  and  guides  us  through  all  hazards;  nay,  we  can  not  be 
safe  without  it,  for  every  hour  gives  us  occasion  to  make  use  of 
it.  It  informs  us  in  all  the  duties  of  life,  piety  to  our  parents, 
faith  to  our  friends,  charity  to  the  miserable,  judgment  in  coun- 
sel ;  it  gives  us  peace^  by  fearing  nothing,  and  riches^  by  coveting 
nothi?ig. 

There  is  no  condition  of  life  that  excludes  a  wise  man  from 
discharging  his  duty.  If  his  fortune  be  good,  he  tempers  it;  if 
bad,  he  masters  it;  if  he  has  an  estate,  he  will  exercise  his  virtue 
in  plenty,  if  none,  in  poverty;  if  he  can  not  do  it  in  his  country, 
he  will  doit  in  banishment;  if  he  has  no  command,  he  will  do  the 
office  of  a  common  soldier.  Some  people  have  the  skill  of  re- 
claiming the  fiercest  of  beasts:  they  will  make  a  lion  embrace 
his  keeper,  a  tiger  kiss  him,  and  an  elephant  kneel  to  him.  This 
is  the  case  of  a  wise  man  in  the  extremest  difficulties;  let  them 
be  never  so  terrible  in  themselves,  when  they  come  to  him  once, 
they  are  perfectly  tame.  They  that  ascribe  the  invention  of  til- 
lage, architecture,  navigation,  etc.,  to  wise  men,  may  perchance 
be  in  the  right,  that  they  were  invented  by  wise  men;  but  they 
were  not  invented  by  wise  men,  as  wise  meny  for  wisdom  does 
not  teach  our  fingers,  but  our  minds:  fiddling  and  dancing,  arms 
and  fortifications,  were  the  works  of  luxury  and  discord;  but 
wisdom  instructs  us  in  the  way  of  nature,  and  in  the  arts  of  unity 
and  concord;  not  in  the  instruments,  but  in  the  government  of 
life;  nor  to  make  us  live  only,  but  to  live  happily.  She  teaches 
us  what  things  are  good,  what  evil,  and  what  only  appear  so;  and 


I 


HAPPINESS    FOUNDED    ON    WISDOM.  823 

to  distinguish  betwixt  true  greatness  and  tumor.  She  clears  our 
minds  of  dross  and  vanity;  she  raises  up  our  thoughts  to  heaven, 
and  carries  them  down  to  hell;  she  discourses  on  the  nature  of 
the  soul,  the  powers  and  faculties  of  it;  the  first  principles  of 
things;  the  order  of  providence:  she  exalts  us  from  things  cor- 
poreal to  things  incorporeal;  and  retrieves  the  truth  of  all :  she 
searches  nature,  gives  laws  to  life;  and  tells  us,  ''that  it  is  not 
enough  to  know  God  unless  we  obey  Him.'"  She  looks  upon  all 
accidents  as  acts  of  providence;  sets  a  true  value  upon  things; 
delivers  us  from  false  opinions,  and  condemns  all  pleasures  that 
are  attended  with  repentance.  She  allows  nothing  to  be  good 
that  will  not  be  so  forever;  no  man  to  be  happy  but  he  that  needs 
no  other  happiness  than  what  he  has  within  himself;  no  man  to 
be  great  or  powerful,  that  is  not  master  of  himself; — and  this  is 
the  felicity  of  human  life;  a  felicity  that  can  neither  be  corrupted 
nor  extinguished. 


AQAINgT  RA^H  JUDQJVIIINT. 

{By  Seneca.) 

It  is  good  for  every  man  to  fortify  himself  on  his  weak  side ; 
and  if  he  loves  his  peace,  he  must  not  be  inquisitive  and  harken 
to  tale-bearers;  for  the  man  that  is  over-curious  to  hear  and  see 
everything,  multiplies  troubles  to  himself;  for  a  man  does  not  feel 
what  he  does  not  know.  He  that  is  listening  after  private  dis- 
course, and  what  people  say  of  him,  shall  never  be  at  peace. 
How  many  things  that  are  innocent  in  themselves,  are  made  in- 
jurious yet  by  misconstruction?  Wherefore  some  things  we 
are  to  pause  upon,  others  to  laugh  at,  and  others  again  to  pardon. 
Or  if  we  can  not  avoid  the  sense  of  indignities,  let  us,  however, 
shun  the  open  profession  of  it;  which  may  be  easily  done,  as  ap- 


824 


LITERATURE. 


pears  by  many  examples  of  those  who  have  suppressed  their 
anger,  under  the  awe  of  a  greater  fear.  It  is  a  good  caution  not 
to  believe  anything  until  }'ou  are  very  certain  of  it;  for  many 
probable  things  prove  false,  and  a  short  time  will  make  evidence 
of  the  undoubted  truth.  We  are  prone  to  believe  many  things 
wiiich  we  arc  unwilling  to  hear,  and  so  we  conclude,  and  take  up 

a  prejudice  before  we  can  judge. 
Never  condemn  a  friend  unheard;  or 
without  letting  him  know  his  accuser, 
or  his  crime.     It  is  a  common  thing  to 


say,  "  Do  not  tell  that  you  had  it  from 
me;  for  if  you  do,  I  will  deny  it;  and 
never  tell  you  anything  again."  By 
which  means  friends  are  set  too-ether 
by  the  ears,  and  the  informer  slips  his 
neck  out  of  the  collar.  Admit  no 
stories,  upon  these  terms;  for  it  is  an 
unjust  thing  to  believe  in  private,  and  be  angry  openly.  He  that 
delivers  himself  up  to  guess  and  conjecture,  runs  a  great  hazard; 
for  there  can  be  no  suspicion  without  some  probable  grounds;  so 
that  without  much  candor  and  simplicity,  and  making  the  best 
of  everything,  there  is  no  living  in  society  with  mankind.  Some 
things  that  offend  us  we  have  by  report;  others  we  see  or  hear. 
In  the  first  case,  let  us  not  be  too  credulous;  some  people  frame 
stories  that  may  deceive  us;  others  only  tell  us  what  they  hear, 
and  are  deceived  themselves;  some  make  it  their  sport  to  do  ill 
offices;  others  do  them  onl}^  to  receive  thanks;  there  are  some 
that  would  part  the  dearest  friends  in  the  world;  others  love  to  do 
mischief,  and  stand  off  aloof  to  see  what  comes  of  it.  If  it  be 
a  small  matter,  I  would  have  witnesses;  but  if  it  be  a  greater,  I 
would  have  it  upon  oath,  and  allow  time  to  the  accused,  and 
counsel,  too,  and  hear  it  over  and  over  again. 


THE    EQUALITY    OF    MAN.  825 

THE   EQUALITY  Of    JVIAJN. 

{By    Seneca.) 

It  is  not  well  done  to  be  still  murmuring  against  nature  and 
fortune,  as  if  it  were  their  unkindness  that  makes  you  incon- 
siderable, when  it  is  only  by  your  own  weakness  that  you  make 
yourself  so;  for  it  is  virtue,  not  pedigree,  that  renders  a  man 
either  valuable  or  happy.  Philosophy  does  not  either  reject  or 
choose  any  man  for  his  quality.  Socrates  was  no  patrician^ 
Cleanthes  but  an  iinder-gardener ^  neither  did  Plato  dignify 
philosophy  by  his  birth,  but  by  his  goodness.  All  these  worthy 
men  are  our  progenitors^  if  we  will  but  do  ourselves  the  honor 
to  become  their  disciples.  The  original  of  all  mankind  was  the 
same,  and  it  is  onl}'  a  clear  conscience  that  makes  any  man 
noble,  for  that  derives  even  from  heaven  itself  It  is  the  saying 
of  a  great  man,  that  if  we  could  trace  our  descents  we  should 
find  all  slaves  to  come  from  princes  and  all  princes  from  slaves. 
But  fortune  has  turned  all  things  topsy-turv^y,  in  a  long  story  of 
revolutions.  It  is  most  certain  that  our  beginning  had  nothing 
before  it,  and  our  ancestors  were  some  of  them  splendid,  others 
sordid,  as  it  happened.  We  have  lost  the  memorials  of  our  ex- 
traction; and,  in  truth,  it  matters  not  whence  we  come,  but 
whither  we  go.  Nor  is  it  any  more  to  our  honor  the  glory 
of  our  predecessors,  than  it  is  to  their  shame  the  wickedness  of 
their  posterit}'.  We  are  all  of  us  composed  of  the  same  ele- 
ments; why  should  we,  then,  value  ourselves  upon  our  nobility  of 
blood,  as  if  we  were  not  all  of  us  equal,  if  we  could  but  recover 
our  evidence?  But  when  we  can  carry  it  no  farther,  the  herald 
provides  us  some  hero  to  supply  the  place  of  an  illustrious 
original,  and  there  is  the  rise  of  arms  and  families.  For  a  man 
to  spend  his  life  in  pursuit  of  a  title,  that  serves  only  when  he 
dies,  to  furnish  out  an  epitaph.^  is  below  a  wise  man's  business. 


826  LITERATURE. 

ALL    THINQS  OI^DERKD    BY   QOD. 

(By  Seneca.) 

Every  man  knows  without  telling,  that  this  wonderful  fabric 
of  the  universe  is  not  without  a  Governor,  and  that  a  constant 
order  can  not  be  the  work  of  chance,  for  the  parts  would  then  fall 
foul  one  upon  another.  The  motions  of  the  stars,  and  their  in- 
fluences, are  acted  by  the  command  of  an  eternal  decree.  It  is 
by  the  dictate  of  an  Almighty  Power,  that  the  heavy  bod}^  of 
the  earth  hangs  in  balance.  Whence  come  the  revolutions  ol 
the  seasons  and  the  flux  of  the  rivers?  the  wonderful  virtue  of 
the  smallest  seeds?  as  an  oak  to  arise  from  an  acorn.  To  say 
nothing  of  those  things  that  seem  to  be  most  irregular  and  un- 
certain; as  clouds,  rain,  thunder,  the  eruptions  of  fire  out  of 
mountains,  earthquakes,  and  those  tumultuary  motions  in  the 
lower  region  of  the  air,  which  have  their  ordinate  causes,  and  so 
have  those  things,  too,  which  appear  to  us  more  admirable  be- 
cause less  frequent;  as  scalding  fountains  and  new  islands  started 
out  of  the  sea;  or  what  shall  we  say  of  the  ebbing  and  flowing 
out  of  the  ocean,  the  constant  times  and  measures  of  the  tides, 
according  to  the  changes  of  the  moon  that  influences  most 
bodies;  but  this  needs  not,  for  it  is  not  that  we  doubt  of  provi- 
dence, but  complain  of  it.  And  it  were  a  good  oflice  to  recon- 
cile mankind  to  the  gods,  who  are  undoubtedly  best  to  the  best. 
It  is  against  nature  that  good  should  hurt  good.  A  good  man 
is  not  only  the  friend  of  God,  but  the  very  image,  the  disciple, 
and  the  imitator  of  Him,  and  a  true  child  of  his  heavenly  Father. 
He  is  true   to  himself,  and  acts  with  constancy  and  resolution. 


PLUTARCH.  827 


PLUTARCH. 

Plutarch  was  born  A.  D.  90,  in  Chaeronea,  a  city  of  Boeotia. 
To  him  we  are  indebted  tor  so  many  of  the  Hves  of  the  philoso- 
phers, poets,  orators  and  generals  of  antiquity.  N®  book  has 
been  more  generally  sought  after  or  read  with  greater  avidity 
than  "  Plutarch's  Lives."  However  ancient,  either  Greek  or 
Latin,  none  has  received  such  a  universal  popularity.  But  the 
character  of  Plutarch  himself,  not  less  than  his  method  of  writ- 
ing biography,  explains  his  universal  popularity,  and  gives  its 
special  charm  and  value  to  his  book.  He  was  a  man  of  large 
and  generous  nature,  of  strong  feeling,  of  refined  tastes,  of  quick 
perceptions.  His  mind  had  been  cultivated  in  the  acquisition  of 
the  best  learning  of  his  times,  and  was  disciplined  by  the  study 
of  books  as  well  as  of  men.  He  deserves  the  title  of  philoso- 
pher; but  his  philosophy  was  of  a  practical  rather  than  a  specula- 
tive character — though  he  was  versed  in  the  wisest  doctrines  of 
the  great  masters  of  ancient  thought,  and  in  some  of  his  moral 
works  shows  himself  their  not  unworthy  follower.  Above  all, 
he  was  a  man  of  cheerful  and  genial  temper.  A  lover  of  justice 
and  of  liberty,  his  sympathies  are  always  on  the  side  of  what  is 
right,  noble  and  honorable. 

He  was  educated  at  Delphi  and  improved  himself  by  the 
advantages  of  foreign  travel.  On  his  return  he  was  employed 
by  his  country  on  an  embassy  to  Rome,  where  he  opened  a 
school  for  youth,  employing  all  his  leisure  time  at  that  capital  of 
the  world  and  chief  seat  of  erudition  in  acquiring  those  vast 
stores  of  learning  which  he  afterwards  read  for  the  delight  and 
instruction  of  mankind.  "It  must  be  borne  in  mind,"  he  says, 
"  that  my  design  is  not  to  write  histories,  but  lives.  And  the 
most  glorious  exploits  do  not  always  furnish  us  with  the  clearest 


828  LITERATURE, 

discoveries  of  virtue  or  vice  in  men;  sometimes  a  matter  of  less 
moment,  an  expression  or  a  jest,  informs  us  better  of  their  char- 
acters and  incHnations  than  the  most  famous  sieges,  the  greatest 
armaments,  or  the  bloodiest  battles  whatsoever.  Therefore,  as 
portrait-painters  are  more  exact  in  the  lines  and  features  of  the 
face,  in  which  the  character  is  seen,  than  in  the  other  parts  of 
the  bodv,  so  I  must  be  allowed  to  give  m}-  more  particular  at- 
tention to  the  marks  and  indications  of  the  souls  of  men;  and, 
while  I  endeavor  by  these  to  portray  their  lives,  may  be  free  to 
leave  more  weighty  matters  and  great  battles  to  be  treated  by 
others.'" 


THE  HORRIBLE   PI^O^CRIPTION?  OF  gYLLA. 

{By  Plutarch.) 

Sylla  being  thus  wholly  bent  upon  slaughter,  and  filling  the 
city  with  executions  without  number  or  limit,  many  wholly  un- 
interested persons  falling  a  sacrifice  to  private  enmity,  through 
his  permission  and  indulgence  to  his  friends,  Caius  Metellus,  one 
of  the  younger  men,  made  bold  in  the  senate  to  ask  him  what 
end  there  was  of  these  evils,  and  at  what  point  he  might  be  ex- 
pected to  stop?  "  We  do  not  ask  you,"  said  he,  "  to  pardon  any 
whom  you  have  resolved  to  destroy,  but  to  free  from  doubt  those 
whom  you  are  pleased  to  save."  Sylla  answering,  that  he  knew 
not  as  yet  whom  to  spare,  "  Why,  then,"  said  he,  "  tell  us  whom 
you  will  punish."  This  Sylla  said  he  would  do.  These  last 
words,  some  authors  say,  were  spoken  not  by  Metellus,  but  by 
Afidus,  one  of  Sylhi's  fawning  companions.  Immediately  upon 
this,  without  communicating  with  any  of  the  magistrates,  Sylla 
proscribed  eight}'  persons,  and  notwithstanding  the  general  in- 
dignation, after  one  day's  respite    he   posted   two   hundred  and 


PROSCRIPTION    OF    SYLLA.  829 

twenty  more,  and  on  the  third,  again,  as  many.  In  an  address 
to  the  people  on  this  occasion,  he  told  them  he  had  put  up  as 
many  names  as  he  could  think  of;  those  that  had  escaped  his 
memory  he  would  publish  at  a  future  time.  He  issued  an  edict 
likewise,  making  death  the  punishment  of  humanity,  proscribing 
any  who  should  dare  to  receive  and  cherish  a  proscribed  person, 
without  exception  to  brother,  son,  or  parents.  And  to  him  who 
should  slay  any  one  proscribed  person,  he  ordained  two  talents 
reward,  even  were  it  a  slave  who  had  killed  his  master,  or  a  son 
his  father.  And  what  was  thought  most  unjust  of  all,  he  caused 
the  attainder  to  pass  upon  their  sons,  and  son's  sons,  and  made 
open  sale  of  all  their  property.  Nor  did  the  proscription  prevail 
only  at  Rome,  but  throughout  all  the  cities  of  Italy  the  effusion 
of  blood  was  such,  that  neither  sanctuar}^  of  the  gods,  nor  hearth 
of  hospitality,  nor  ancestral  home  escaped.  Men  were  butchered 
in  the  embraces  of  their  wives,  children  in  the  arms  of  their 
mothers.  Those  who  perished  through  public  animosity,  or  pri- 
vate enmity,  were  nothing  in  comparison  of  the  numbers  of  those 
who  suffered  for  their  riches.  Even  the  murderers  began  to  say, 
that  "  his  fine  house  killed  this  man,  a  garden  that,  a  third,  his 
hot  baths."  Quintus  Aurclius,  a  quiet,  peaceable  man,  and  one 
who  thought  all  his  part  in  the  common  calamity  consisted  in 
condoling  with  the  misfortunes  of  others,  coming  into  the  forum 
to  read  the  list,  and  finding  himself  among  the  proscribed,  cried 
out,  ''  Woe  is  me,  my  Alban  farm  has  informed  against  me."" 
He  had  not  gone  far,  before  he  was  dispatched  by  a  ruffian,  sent 
on  that  errand. 


830  LITERATURE. 

DEJVI0^THZ:|^1E^  AND  CICEF^O  COMPAI^ED. 

(By  Plutarch.) 

Omitting  an  exact  comparison  of  the  respective  faculties  in 
speaking  of  Demosthenes  and  Cicero,  yet  this  much  seems  fit  to  Jj 
be  said ;  that  Demosthenes,  to  make  himself  a  master  in  rhetoric, 
applied  all  the  faculties  he  had,  natural  or  acquired,  wholly  that 
way;  that  he  far  surpassed  in  force  and  strength  of  eloquence  all 
his  cotemporaries  in  political  and  judicial  speaking,  in  grandeur 
and  majesty  all  the  panegyrical  orators,  and  in  accuracy  and 
science  all  the  logicians  and  rhetoricans  of  his  day;  that  Cicero 
was  highl}'  educated,  and  by  his  diligent  study  became  a  most 
accomplished  general  scholar  in  all  these  branches,  having  left 
behind  him  numerous  philosophical  treatises  of  his  own  on 
Academic  principles;  as,  indeed,  even  in  his  written  speeches, 
both  political  and  judicial,  we  see  him  continually  trying  to  show 
his  learning  by  the  way.  And  one  may  discover  the  different 
temper  of  each  of  them  in  their  speeches.  For  Demosthenes' 
oratory  was  without  all  embellishment  and  jesting,  wholly  com- 
posed for  real  effect  and  seriousness;  not  smelling  of  the  lamp,  as 
Pytheas  scoffingly  said,  but  of  the  temperance,  thoughtfulness, 
austerity,  and  grave  earnestness  of  his  temper.  Whereas  Cicero's 
love  for  mockery  often  ran  him  into  scurrility;  and  in  his  love  of 
laughing  away  serious  arguments  in  judicial  cases  by  jests  and 
facetious  remarks,  with  a  view  to  the  advantage  of  his  clients,  he 
paid  too  little  regard  to  what  was  decent.  Indeed,  Cicero  was 
by  natural  temper  very  much  disposed  to  mirth  and  pleasantry^ 
and  always  appeared  with  a  smiling  and  serene  countenance. 
But  Demosthenes  had  constant  care  and  thoughtfulness  in  his  look, 
and  a  serious  anxiety,  which  he  seldom,  if  ever,  set  aside,  and, 
therefore,  was  accounted  by  his  enemies,  as  he  himself  confessed, 
morose  and  ill-mannered. 


DEMOSTHENES    AND    CICERO    COMPARED. 


831 


Also,  it  is  very  evident,  out  of  their  several  writings,  that 
Demosthenes  never  touched  upon  his  own  praises  but  decently 
and  without  offense  when  there  was  need  of  it,  and  for  some 
weightier  end;  but,  upon  other  occasions,  modestly  and  sparingly. 
But  Cicero's  immeasurable  boasting 
of  himself  in  his  orations  argues  him 
guilty  of  an  uncontrollable  appetite  for 
distinction,  his  cry  being  evermore 
that  arms  should  give  place  to  the 
cfown,  and  the  soldier's  laurel  to  the 
tongue.  And  at  last  we  tind  him  ex- 
tolling not  only  his  deeds  and  actions, 
but  his  orations,  also,  as  well  those  that 
were  only  spoken,  as  those  that  were 
published.     *     * 

The  power  of  persuading  and 
governing  the  people  did.  indeed, 
equally  belong  to  both,  so  that  those 

who  had  armies    and   camps   at   com-  Alexander  severus. 

mand  stood  in  need  of  their  assistance.  But  what  are  thought 
and  commonly  said  most  to  demonstrate  and  try  the  tempers  of 
men,  namely,  authority  and  place,  by  moving  every  passion,  and 
discovering  every  frailty,  these  are  things  which  Demosthenes 
never  received;  nor  was  he  ever  in  a  position  to  give  such  proof 
of  himself,  having  never  obtained  any  eminent  office,  nor  led  any 
of  those  armies  into  the  field  against  Philip  which  he  raised  by 
his  eloquence.  Cicero,  on  the  other  hand,  was  sent  quaestor  into 
Sicily,  and  proconsul  into  Cilicia  and  Cappadocia,  at  a  time  when 
avarice  was  at  the  height,  and  the  commanders  and  governors 
who  were  employed  abroad,  as  though  they  thought  it  a  mean 
thing  to  steal,  set  themselves  to  seize  by  open  force;  so  that  it 
seemed  no  heinous  matter  to  take  bribes,  but  he  that  did  it  most 
moderately  was  in  good  esteem.     And  yet  he,  at  this  time,  gave 


832 


LITERATURE. 


the  most  abundant  proofs  alike  of  his  contempt  of  riches  and  of 
his  humanity  and  good  nature.  And  at  Rome,  when  he  was 
created  consul  in  name,  but  indeed  received  sovereign  and  dicta- 
torial authority  against  Catiline  and  his  conspirators,  he  attested 
the  truth  of  Plato's  prediction,  that  then  the  miseries  of  states 
would  be  at  an  end,  when  by  a  happy  fortune  supreme  power, 
wisdom  and  justice  should  be  united  in  one.     ^     * 

Finally,  Cicero's  death  excites  our  pity;  for  an  old  man  to 
be  miserably  carried  up  and  down  by  his  servants,  flying  and 
hiding  himself  from  that  death  which  was,  in  the  course  of  na- 
ture, so  near  at  hand,  and  yet  at  last  to  be  murdered.  Demos- 
thenes, though  he  seemed  at  first  a  little  to  supplicate,  yet,  by 
his  preparing  and  keeping  the  poison  by  him,  demands  our  ad- 
miration; and  still  more  admirable  was  his  using  it.  When 
the  temple  of  the  god  no  longer  afforded  him  a  sanctuary,  he 
took  refuge,  as  it  were,  at  a  mightier  altar,  freeing  himself 
from  arms  and  soldiers,  and  laughing  to  scorn  the  cruelty  of 
Antipater. 

[This  seems  to  have  been  Plutarch's  views  of  suicide,  and, 
in  fact,  the  spirit  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived.  From  the  stand- 
point of  the  philosophy  of  our  da}',  suicide  manifests  nothing  but 
a  weakness  and  very  generally  insanity.] 


'Sli  .St- ;» 


^  ^  ¥:  J 


^  .«^v  .^  . 


r.  .^^. .« 


f.      /*    w*«^\/'%*/^ 


^f'«  ^  ¥  «J5 


t/''>s%^.'^*  >'*''■•''  * 


■^'v-f'?^"--' 


T^fip^  iKjiv  m'AP^'W?>' 


TOMBg. 


Respect  for  the  dead,  and  a  considerate  regard  for  the  due 
performance  of  the  rites  of  burial,  have  been  distinctive  features 
in  man  in  all  ages  and  countries.  Among  the  Greeks  and  Ro- 
mans great  importance  was  attached  to  the  burial  of  the  dead, 
as,  if  a  corpse  remained  unburied,  it  was  believed  that  the  spirit 
of  the  departed  wandered  for  a  hundred  years  on  the  hither  side 
of  the  Styx.  Hence  it  became  a  religious  duty  to  scatter  earth 
over  any  unburied  body  which  any  one  might  chance  to  meet. 
This  was  considered  sufficient  to  appease  the  infernal  gods.  The 
earliest  tomb  was  the  tumulus  or  mound  of  earth,  heaped  over 
the  dead.  It  is  a  form  naturally  suggested  to  man  in  the  early 
stages  of  his  development.  There  are  two  classes  of  primitive 
tombs,  which  are  evidently  of  the  highest  antiquity.  The 
hypergcEan^  or  raised  mounds,  or  tumuli,  and  hypogcEan,  which 
are  subterranean  or  excavated.  The  tumulus  may  be  considered 
as  the  most  simple  and  the  most  ancient  form  of  sepulture.  Its 
adoption  was  universal  among  all  primitive  nations.  Such  was 
the  memorial  raised  by  the  Greeks  over  the  bodies  of  their 
heroes.  These  raised  mounds  are  to  be  met  with  in  all  coun- 
tries.    The  Etruscans  improved  upon  this  form  by  surrounding 

53  '^7>2> 


834  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

the  base  with  a  podium,  or  supporting  wall  of  masonry,  as  at  the 
Cocumella  at  Vulci,  and  in  the  Regulini-Galassi  tomb.  The 
Lydians  adopted  a  similar  improvement  in  the  tomb  of  Alyattes, 
near  Sard  is.  The  pyramid,  which  is  but  a  further  development 
in  stone  of  this  form  cf  sepulture,  is  not  peculiar  to  Egypt  alone, 
it  has  been  adopted  in  several  other  countries.  Examples  of 
subterranean  tombs  are  to  be  tbund  in  Egypt,  Etruria,  Greece. 
Those  of  Eg\'pt  and  Etruria  afford  instances  of  extraordinary 
labor  bestowed  in  excavating  and  constructing  these  subterranean 
abodes  of  the  dead.  The  great  reverence  paid  b}'  the  Eg3'p- 
tians  to  the  bodies  of  their  ancestors,  and  their  careful  preserva- 
tion of  them  by  embalmment,  necessitated  a  great  number  and 
vast  extent  of  tombs.  The  Egyptians  called  their  earthly  dwell- 
ings inns,  because  men  stay  there  but  a  brief  while;  the  tombs 
of  the  departed  they  called  everlasting  mansions,  because  the  dead 
dwelt  in  them  forever. 

The  pyramids  were  tombs.  These  monuments  were  the 
last  abode  of  the  Kings  of  the  early  dynasties.  The}'  are  to  be 
met  with  in  Lower  Egypt  alone.  The  Theban  Kings  and  their 
subjects  erected  no  pyramids,  and  none  of  their  tombs  are  struc- 
tural. In  Upper  Egypt  numerous  excavations  from  the  living 
rock  in  the  mountains  of  the  Thebaid  received  their  mortal  re- 
mains. Nothing  can  exceed  the  magnificence  and  care  with 
which  t'.ese  tombs  of  the  Kings  were  excavated  and  decorated. 
It  appears  to  have  been  the  custom  with  their  Kings,  so  soon  as 
they  ascended  the  throne,  to  begin  preparing  their  final  resting 
place.  The  excavation  seems  to  have  gone  on  uninterruptedly, 
year  by  3'ear,  the  painting  and  adornment  being  finished  as  it 
progressed,  till  the  hand  of  death  ended  the  King's  reign,  and 
simultaneously  the  works  of  his  tomb.  The  tomb  thus  became 
an  index  of  the  length  of  a  King's  reign  as  well  as  of  his  magnifi- 
cence. Their  entrance,  carefully  closed,  was  frequentl}^  indicated 
by  a  facade  cut  on  the  side  of  the  hill     A  number  of  passages, 


8^6  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

sometimes  intersected  by  deep  wells  and  large  halls,  finally  led, 
frequently  by  concealed  entrances,  to  the  large  chamber  where 
was  the  sarcophagus,  generally  of  granite,  basalt,  or  alabaster. 
The  sides  of  the  entire  excavation,  as  well  as  the  roof,  were 
covered  with  paintings,  colored  sculptures,  and  hieroglyphic  in- 
scriptions in  which  the  name  of  the  deceased  King  was  fre- 
quentU'  repeated.  We  generally  find  represented  in  them  the 
funeral  ceremonies,  the  procession,  the  visit  of  the  soul  of  the 
deceased  to  the  principal  divinities,  its  offerings  to  each  of  them, 
lastly,  its  presentation  by  the  god  who  protected  it  to  the  su- 
preme god  of  the  Amenti,  the  under-world  or  Hades.  The 
splendor  of  these  works,  and  the  richness  and  variety  of  their 
ornamentation,  exceed  all  conception;  the  figures,  though  in 
great  number,  are  sometimes  of  colossal  size;  frequently  scenes 
of  civil  lite  are  mingled  with  funeral  representations;  the  labors 
of  agriculture,  domestic  occupations,  musicians,  dances,  and 
furniture  of  wonderful  richness  and  elegance,  are  also  figured  on 
them;  on  the  ceiling  are  generally  astronomical  or  astrological 
subjects.  Several  tombs  of  the  Kings  of  the  eighteenth  dynasty 
and  subsequent  dynasties  have  been  found  in  the  valley  of  Biban- 
el-Molouk  on  the  western  side  of  the  plain  of  Thebes.  One  of 
the  most  splendid  of  these  is  that  opened  bv  Belzoni,  and  now 
known  as  that  of  Osirei  Menepthah,  of  the  nineteenth  dynasty. 
A  sloping  passage  leads  to  a  chamber  which  has  been  called 
"  The  Hall  of  Beauty.'^ 

Forcing  his  way  farther  on,  Belzoni  found  as  a  termination 
to  a  series  of  chambers  a  large  vaulted  hall  which  contained  the 
sarcophagus  which  held  the  body  of  the  monarch,  now  in  Sir 
John  Soane's  Museum.  The  entire  extent  of  this  succession  of 
chambers  and  passages  is  hollowed  to  a  length  of  320  feet  into 
the  heart  of  the  rock,  and  they  are  profusely  covered  with  the 
paintings  and  hieroglyphics  usually  found  in  those  sepulchral 
chambers.      The  tombs  of  the    other  Kings,    Remeses   III.    and 


BURYING    ACCORDING    TO    RANK.  837 

Remeses  Miamun,  exhibit  similar  series  of  passages  and  cliam- 
bers,  covered  witli  paintings  and  sculptures,  in  endless  variet}',  some 
representing  the  deepest  mysteries  of  the  Egyptian  religion;  but, 
as  Mr.  Fergusson  says,  like  all  the  tombs,  they  depend  for  their 
magnificence  more  on  the  paintings  that  adorn  the  walls  than  on 
anything  which  can  strictly  be  called  architecture.  One  of  the 
tombs  at  Biban-el  ]\Io1oiik  is  862  feet  in  length  without  rcckoninor 
the  lateral  chambers;  the  total  area  of  excavation  is  23,809.  oc- 
cupying an  acre  and  a  quarter  of  space  for  one  chamber. 

Private  individuals  were  buried  according  to  their  rank  and 
fortune.  Their  tombs,  also  excavated  from  the  living  rock,  con- 
sisted of  one  or  of  several  chambers  ornamented  with  paintings 
and  sculptures;  the  last  contained  the  sarcophagus  and  the 
mummy.  According  to  Sir  G.  Wilkinson,  the  tombs  were  the 
propert}"  of  the  priests,  and  a  sufficient  number  being  alwa3-s  kept 
ready,  the  purchase  was  made  at  the  shortest  notice,  nothing  be- 
ing requisite  to  complete  even  the  sculptures  or  inscriptions  but 
the  insertion  of  the  deceased's  name  and  a  few  statements  re- 
specting his  family  and  profession.  The  numerous  subjects  repre- 
senting agricultural  scenes,  the  trades  of  the  people,  in  short,  the 
various  occupations  of  the  Egyptians,  varying  only  in  their  details 
and  the  mode  of  their  execution,  were  figured  in  these  tombs,  and 
were  intended  as  a  short  epitome  of  human  life,  which  suited 
equallv  every  future  occupant.  The  tombs  at  Beni  Hassan  are 
even  of  an  earlier  date  than  those  of  Thebes.  Among  these  the 
tomb  of  a  monarch  or  provincial  governor  is  of  the  age  of  Osir- 
tasen  I.  The  walls  of  this  tomb  are  covered  with  a  series  of 
representations,  setting  forth. the  ordinary  occupations  and  daily 
avocations  of  the  deceased,  thus  illustrating  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  the  Egytians  of  that  age.  These  representations  are  a 
sort  of  epitome  of  lite,  or  the  career  of  man,  previous  to  his  ad- 
mission to  the  mansions  of  the  dead.  They  were  therefore 
intended  to   show  that   the  deceased    had  carefully  and  dul}'  ful- 


S38  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS 

hlled  and  performed  all  the  duties  and  avocations  which  his 
situation  in  life  and  the  reverence  due  to  the  i^ods  required.  In 
the  cemeteries  of  Gizeh  and  Sakkara  are  tombs  o^'the  time  of 
Nephercheres,  sixth  tying  of  the  second  dynasty,  probably  the 
most  ancient  in  Egypt.  Around  the  great  pyramid  are  numerous 
tombs  of  different  periods;  among  them  are  the  tombs  of  the 
princes,  and  other  members  of  the  family  or  time  of  Khufu. 
One  of  the  most  interesting  is  that  known  as  CampbelFs  tomb, 
o\  the  supposed  date  of  about  660  B.  C.  It  contained  a  tomb 
built  up  in  its  center,  covered  by  three  stones  as  struts,  over 
which  was  a  semicircular  arch  ot  brick.  Near  it,  also,  are  several 
tombs  of  private  individuals,  who  were  mostly  priests  of  Mem- 
phis. Manv  of  these  ha^^e  false  entrances,  and  several  have 
pits  with  their  mouths  at  the  top  of  the  tomb.  The  walls  are 
covered  with  the  usual  paintings  representing  the  ordinary  occu- 
pations of  the  deceased. 

Afiijiumes.— The  origin  of  the  process  of  embalming  has  been 
variously  accounted  for.  The  real  origin  appears  to  be  this:  it  was 
a  part  of  the  religious  belief  of  the  Egyptians  that,  as  a  reward  of 
a  well-spent  and  virtuous  life,  their  bodies  after  death  should 
exist  and  remain  undecayed  forever  in  their  tombs,  for  we  find 
in  the  "  Book  of  the  Dead  ''  the  following  inscription  placed  over 
the  spirits  who  have  found  favor  in  the  e3'es  of  the  Gieat  God: 
"  Tiic  bodies  which  they  have  forsaken  shall  s/eep  forever  in 
their  sepulchres,  while  they  rejoice  in  the  presence  of  God  most 
high."'''  This  inscription  evidently  shows  a  belief  in  a  separate 
eternitv  for  soul  andbod\';  of  an  eternal  existence  of  the  body 
in  the  tomb,  and  ot  the  so.il  in  the  presence  of  God.  The  soui 
was  supposed  to  exist  as  long  as  the  body  existed.  Hence  the 
necessity  of  embalming  the  body  as  a  means  to  insure  its  eternal 
existence.  Some  have  considered  that  the  want  of  ground  for 
cemeteries,  and  also  the  exca\'ations  made  in  the  mountains  for 
the  extraction  of  materials  employed   in   the   immense   buildings 


MUMMIES.  839 

of  Eg3^pt,  compelled  them  to  have  recourse  to  the  expedient  of 
mummification.  Others  consider  the  custom  arose  rather  from 
a  sanitary  regulation  for  the  benefit  of  the  living.  According  to 
Mr.  Gliddon,  mummification  preceded,  in  all  probability,  the 
building  of  the  pyramids  and  tombs,  because  vestiges  of  mum- 
mies have  been  found  in  the  oldest  of  these,  and,  in  fact,  the  first 
mummies  were  buried  in  the  sand  before  the  Egyptians  possessed 
the  necessary  tools  for  excavating  sepulchres  in  the  rock.  The 
earliest  mode  of  mummification  was  extremely  simple;  the  bodies 
were  prepared  with  natron,  or  dried  in  ovens,  and  wrapped  in 
woolen  cloth.  At  a  later  period  every  provincial  temple  was 
provided  with  an  establishment  for  the  purpose  of  mummification. 
The  bodies  were  delivered  to  the  priests  to  be  embalmed,  and 
after  seventy  days  restored  to  their  friends,  to  be  carried  to  the 
place  of  deposit.  The  mode  of  embalming  depended  on  the 
rank  and  position  of  the  deceased.  There  were  three  modes  of 
embalming;  the  first  is  said  to  have  cost  a  talent  of  silver  (about 
$1,250);  the  second,  22  minse  ($300);  the  third  was  extremely 
cheap.  The  process  is  thus  described  by  Herodotus; — "  In  Egypt 
certain  persons  are  appointed  by  law  to  exercise  this  art  as  their 
peculiar  business,  and  when  a  dead  bod}'  is  brought  them  they 
produce  patterns  of  mummies  in  wood,  imitated  in  painting.  In 
preparing  the  body  according  to  the  most  expensive  mode,  they 
commence  by  extracting  the  brain  from  the  nostrils  by  a  curved 
hook,  partly  cleansing  the  head  b}'  these  means,  and  partly  by 
pouring  in  certain  drugs;  then  making  an  incision  in  the  side 
with  a  sharp  Ethiopian  stone  (black  flint),  they  draw  out  the  in- 
testines through  the  aperture.  Having  cleansed  and  washed  them 
with  palm  wine,  they  cover  them  with  pounded  aromatics,  and 
afterwards  filling  the  cavity  with  powder  of  pure  myrrh,  cassia, 
and  other  fragrant  substances,  frankincense  excepted,  they  sew  it 
up  again.  This  being  done,  they  salt  the  body,  keeping  it  in 
natron   during  seventy  days,   to  which  period  they  are   strictly 


840 


TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 


confined.  When  the  seventy  days  are  over,  they  wash  the  body, 
and  wrap  it  up  entirely  in  bands  of  fine  linen  smeared  on  the 
inner  side  with  gum.  The  relatives  then  take  away  the  body, 
and  have  a  wooden  case  made  in  the  form  of  a  man,  in  which 
they  deposit  it;  and  when  fastened  up  they  keep  it  in  a  room  in 
their  house,  placing  it  upright  against  the  wall.  (Thi5  style  of 
mummy  was  supposed  to  represent  the  deceased  in  the  form  of 
Osiris.)     This  is  the  most  costly  mode  of  embalming. 

"  For  those  who  choose  the  middle  kind,  on  account  of  the 
expense,  they  prepare  the  body  as  follows: — They  fill  syringes 
with  oil  of  cedar,  and  inject  this  into  the  abdomen  without 
making  any  incision  or  removing  the  bowels;  and,  taking  care 
that  the  liquid  shall  not  escape,  they  keep  it  in  salt  during  the 
specified  number  of  days.  The  cedar-oil  is  then  taken  out,  and 
such  is  its  strength  that  it  brings  with  it  the  bowels  and  all  the 
inside  in  a  state  of  dissolution.  The  natron  also  dissolves  the 
flesh,  so  that  nothing  remains  but  the  skin  and  bones.  This 
process  being  over,  they  restore  the  body  without  any  further 
operation. 

"The  third  kind  of  embalming  is  only  adapted  for  the  poor. 
In  this  they  merely  cleanse  the  body  by  an  injection  of  syrmsea, 
and  salt  it  during  seventy  days,  after  which  it  is  returned  to  the 
friends  who  brought  it." 

Sir  G.  Wilkinson  gives  some  further  information  with  regard 
to  the  more  expensive  mode  of  embalming.  The  body,  having 
been  prepared  with  the  proper  spices  and  drugs,  was  enveloped 
in  linen  bandages  sometimes  1,000  yards  in  length.  It  was  then 
enclosed  in  a  cartonage  fitting  close  to  the  mummied  body, 
which  was  richly  painted  and  covered  in  front  with  a  network 
of  beads  and  bugles  arranged  in  a  tasteful  form,  the  face  being 
laid  over  with  a  thick  gold  leaf,  and  the  eyes  made  of  enamel. 
The  three  or  four  cases  which  successively  covered  the  cartonage 
were  ornamented  in  like  manner  with  painting  and  gilding,  and 


MUMMIES. 


841 


the  whole  was  enclosed  in  a  sarcophagus  of  wood  or  stone,  pro- 
fuiicl}^  charged  with  painting  or  sculpture.  These  cases,  as  well 
as  the  cartonage,  varied  in 
style  and  richness, according 
to  the  expense  incurred  by 
the  friends  of  the  deceased. 
The  bodies  thus  embalmed 
^vere  generall}-  of  priests  of 
various  grades.  Sometimes 
the  skin  itself  was  covered 
with  gold  leaf;  sometimes 
the  whole  body,  the  face,  or 
eyelids;  sometimes  the  nails 
alone.  In  many  instances 
the  body  or  the  cartonaofe 
was  beautified  in  an  expen- 
sive manner,  and  the  outer 
cases  were  little  ornament- 
ed; but  some  preferred  the 
external  show  of  rich  cases 
and  sarcophagi.  Some 
mummies  have  been  found 
with  the  face  covered  by  a 
mask  of  cloth  fitting  closely 
to  it,  and  overlaid  with  a 
coating  of  composition,  so 
painted  as  to  resemble  the 
deceased,  and  to  have  the 
appearance  of  flesh.  These, 
according  to  Sir  G.  Wilkin- 
son, are  probably  of  a  Greek 
epoch.  Greek  mummies  usually  differed  from  those  of  the 
Egyptians  in  the  manner  of  disposing  the  bandages  of  the  arms 


842  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

and  legs.  No  Egyptian  is  found  with  the  Hmbs  bandaged  sepa- 
rately, as  those  ot"  Greek  mummies.  On  the  breast  was  frequently 
placed  a  scarabceus  in  immediate  contact  with  the  flesh.  These 
scarabaii,  when  of  stone,  had  their  extended  vvings  made  of  lead 
or  silver.  On  the  cartonage  and  case,  in  a  corresponding  situa- 
tion above,  the  same  emblem  was  also  placed,  to  indicate  the 
protecting  influence  of  the  Deity.  The  subjects  painted  upon  the 
cartonage  were  the  four  genii  of  Amenti,  and  various  emblems 
belonging  to  deities  connected  with  the  dead.  A  long  line  of  hie- 
roglyphics extending  down  the  front  usuall}"  contained  the  name 
and  quality  of  the  deceased,  and  the  offerings  presented  by  him  to 
the  gods;  and  transverse  bands  frequently  reperited  the  former, 
with  similar  donations  to  other  deities.  On  the  breast  was 
placed  the  flgure  of  Netpe,  with  expanded  wings,  protecting  the 
deceased;  sacred  arks,  boats,  and  other  things  were  arranged  in 
different  compartments,  and  Osiris,  Isis,  Anubis,  and  other 
deities,  were  frequently  introduced.  In  some  instances  Isis  was 
represented  throwing  her  arms  round  the  feet  of  the  mummy, 
with  this  appropriate  legend:  "I  embrace  thy  feet."  A  plaited 
beard  was  attached  to  the  chin  when  the  mummy  was  that  of  a 
man;  the  absence  of  this  appendage  indicated  the  mummy  of  a 
woman. 

Mitiuiuy  Cases  and  Sarcopha<ri. — The  outer  case  of  the 
mumm\'  was  either  of  wood — sycamore  or  cedar — or  ot  stone. 
When  of  wood  it  had  a  flat  or  circular  summit,  sometimes  with 
a  stout  square  pillar  rising  at  each  angle.  The  whole  was  richly 
painted,  and  some  of  an  older  age  frequentW  had  a  door  repre- 
sented near  one  of  the  corners.  At  one  end  was  the  figure  of 
Isis,  at  the  other  Nepthys,  and  the  top  was  painted  with  bands- 
or  fancy  devices.  In  others,  the  lid  represented  the  curving  top 
of  the  ordinary  Egyptian  canopy.  The  stone  coffins,  usually 
called  sarcophagi,  were  of  oblong  shape,  having  flat  straight 
sides,  like  a  box,  with  a  curved  or   pointed    lid.      Sometimes  the 


MUMMY    CASES    AND    SARCOPHAGI. 


843 


gure  of  the  deceased  was  represented  upon  the  latter  in  rehef, 
like  that  ot"  the  Queen  of  Aniasis  in  the  British  Museum;  and 
some  were  in  the  form  of  a  King's  name  or  oval.  Others  were 
made  in  the  shape  of  the  mummied  body,  whether  of  basalt, 
granite,  slate,  or  limestone,  specimens  of  which  are  met  with 
in  the  British  Museum.  These  cases  were  deposited  in  the  sepul- 
chral chambers.  Various  offerings  were  placed  near  them,  and 
sometimes   the  instruments  of  the  profession  of  the   deceased. 


COFFIN  OF  ALABASTER.     (Features  of  the  deceased  Sculptured.) 

Near  them  were  also  placed  vases  and  small  figures  of  the  de- 
ceased, of  wood  or  vitrified  earthenware.  In  Sir  John  Soane's 
museum  is  the  sarcophagus  of  Seti  I.  (Menephtha)  B.  C.  1322, 
cut  out  of  a  single  block  of  Oriental  alabaster.  It  is  profusely 
covered  with  hieroglyphics,  and  scenes  on  it  depict  the  passage 
of  the  sun  through  the  hours  of  the  night.  It  was  found  by 
Belzoni  in  his  tomb  in  the  Biban-el-molouk.  The  sarcophagus 
now  in  the  British  Museum  was  formerly  supposed  to  have 
been  the  identical  sarcophagus  which  contained  the  body  of 
Alexander  the  Great.     The  hieroglyphic  name,  which  has  been. 


^44  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

read  upon  the  monument,  proves  it  to  be  that  of  Nectanebo  L, 
of  the  thirtieth  dynasty,  who  reigned  from  B.  C.  381  to  363.  Its 
material  is  a  breccia  from  a  quarry  near  Thebes,  and  is  remark- 
able for  its  hardness.  A  remarkable  rectangular-shaped  coffin 
of  whinstone  was  that  ot"  Menkare,  the  Mycerinus  of  the  Greeks, 
and  the  builder  of  the  third  pyramid;  this  interesting  relic  was 
found  by  Colonel  Vn'sc  in  the  sepulchral  chambers  of  the  third 
p3-raniid,  but  was  unfortunately  lost  at  sea  while  on  its  way  to 
England.  The  remains  of  the  cedar-coffin  of  this  monarch  are 
in  the  British  Museum.  Many  beautiful  sarcophagi  are  in  the 
Vatican  at  Rome. 

The  vases,  generally  named  canopi,  from  their  resemblance 
to  certain  vases  made  b}'  the  Romans  to  imitate  the  Egyptian 
taste,  but  inadmissible  in  its  application  to  any  Egyptian  vase, 
were  four  in  number,  of  different  materials,  according  to  the 
rank  of  the  deceased,  and  were  placed  near  his  coffin  in  the 
tomb.  Some  were  of  common  limestone,  the  most  costly  were 
of  Oriental  alabaster.  These  four  vases  form  a  complete  series; 
the  principal  intestines  of  the  mummy  were  placed  in  them,  em- 
balmed in  spices  and  various  substances,  and  rolled  up  in  linen, 
each  containing  a  separate  portion.  They  were  supposed  to  be- 
long to  the  four  genii  of  Amenti,  whose  heads  and  names  they 
bore.  The  vase  with  a  cover,  representing  the  human  head  of 
Amset,  held  the  stomach  and  large  intestines;  that  with  the 
cynocephalus  head  of  Ilapi  contained  the  small  intestines;  in 
that  belonging  to  the  jackal-headed  Tuautmutf  were  the  lungs 
and  heart;  and  for  the  vase  of  the  hawk-headed  Kabhsenuf 
were  reserved  the  gall-bladder  and  liver.  On  the  sides  of  the 
vases  were  several  columns  of  hieroglyphics,  which  expressed 
the  adoration  of  the  deceased  to  each  of  the  four  deities  whose 
S3^mbols  adorned  the  covers,  and  which  gave  the  name  of  the 
deceased. 

Small  figures,  called  shahh\    offered  through  respect  for  the 


MUMMY    CASES    AND    SARCOPHAGI.  845 

dead,  are  to  be  Ibund    in   oreat  numbers  in   the   tombs.     They 
were  images  of  Osiris,  whose   Ibrni  the  deceased  was  supposed 
to  assume,  and  who  thence  was  called  the  Osirian.      They  are  in 
several  shapes,  sometimes   in   that   of  the   deceased,  standing   in 
the  dress  of  the   period,  but  more   generally  in  the   shape   of  a 
mummy,  the  body  swathed  in  bandages,  Irom  which   the   hands 
come   out,  holding  a   hoe,  hab^  and   pick-ax,  and   the   cord   of  a 
square  basket,  slung  on  the  left  shoulder,  or   nape   of  the   neck. 
The  head  attire  of  the  deceased  is  either   that  of  the   period   or 
dignity,  and  in  the  case  of  monarchs  accompanied  by  the  uraeus^ 
emblem  of  royalty.     Some  figures  hold  the  emblem  of  life,  ankhy 
and   of  stability,  tat^  or   a  whip,  kliu.     They   are   generall}^   of 
wood,    or  vitrified  earthenware.     The  name  and   quality  of  the 
deceased  are  found  on  all  those  in   the   same   tomb,  and "  thrown 
on  the  ground    round   the  sarcophagus.     They   usually   bear   in 
hieroglyphics  the  sixth  chapter  of  the  funeral  ritual.     Some  are 
found  with   a   blank  space  left   for   the   name    of  the    deceased, 
which  leads  one  to  think  that  the  relations  and  friends  procured 
these  figures  from  dealers;    the  funeral  formula,  with  a  list  ot 
the   customary  presentations  of  offerings   for  his  soul  to   Osiris 
were  already  on  them;    nothing  was  wanting  but  the  naine  of 
the  deceased;  this  being  added,  they  were  then  evidently  offered 
as   testimonies   of  respect  by  the   relations    and    friends  of  the 
deceased,  perhaps  at  the   funeral,  and  then  collected  and  placed 
in   the  tomb.       Sometimes  these   small   figures   were  placed   in 
painted   cases   divided   into  compartments.       These   cases    were 
about  two  teet  long  and  one  foot  high. 

Manuscripts  on  papvrus,  of  various  lengths,  have  been  found 
on  some  mummies.  These  rolls  of  papyrus  are  found  in  the  cof- 
fins, or  under  the  swathings  of  the  mummies,  between  the  legs, 
on  the  breast,  or  under  the  arms.  Some  are  enclosed  in  a  cylin- 
drical case.  The  papyrus  of  the  Museum  of  Turin  is  sixtv-six 
feet  long,  that  at  Paris  is  twenty-two  feet  long;  others  are  of  dif- 


846  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMB^ 

ferent  lengths,  down  to  two  or  three  feet.  That  of  Turin  may 
be  considered  as  complete.  On  all,  the  upper  part  of  the  page 
is  occupied  by  a  line  of  tigures  of  the  divinities  which  the  soul 
visits  in  succession;  the  rest  is  tilled  with  perpendicular  columns 
of  hieroglyphics,  which  are  prayers  which  the  soul  addresses  to 
each  divinity;  towards  the  end  of  the  manuscript  is  painted  the 
judgment  scene;  the  great  god  Osiris  is  on  his  throne;  at  his  feet 
is  an  enormous  female  crocodile,  its  mouth  open;  behind  is  the 
divine  balance,  surmounted  by  a  cjtiocephalus  emblem  of 
uni\'ersal  justice;  the  good  and  bad  actions  of  the  soul  are 
weio^hed  in  his  presence.  Horus  examines  the  plummet,  and 
Thoth  records  the  sentence;  standing  close  by  is  the  soul  of  the 
deceased  in  its  corporeal  form,  conducted  by  the  two  goddesses, 
Truth  and  Justice,  before  the  great  judge  of  the  dead.  The 
name  of  Ritual  of  the  Dead  has  been  given  by  Eg}'ptologists  to 
these  papyri,  but  in  reality  they  bear  the  title  of  "  The  Book  of 
the  Manifestation  to  Light."  A  copy  of  this,  more  or  less  com- 
plete, according  to  the  fortune  of  the  deceased,  was  deposited  in 
the  case  of  every  mummy.  The  book  was  revised  under  the 
twenty-sixth  dynasty,  and  then  assumed  its  final  definite  form. 
But  many  parts  of  it  are  of  the  highest  antiquit}'.  The  whole 
series  of  pilgrimages  which  the  soul,  separated  from  the  body, 
was  believed  to  accomplish  in  the  various  divisions  of  the  lower 
regions,  are  related  in  this  book.  It  contained  also  a  collection 
of  prayers  for  the  use  of  the  deceased  in  the  other  world,  and  of 
magical  formulcC  intended  to  secure  the  preservation  of  the 
mummy  from  deca}',  and  to  prevent  its  possession  by  an  evil 
spirit,  till  the  ultimate  return  of  the  soul  of  the  deceased.  Many 
of  these  rituals  are  also  found  written,  not  in  hieroglyphics,  but 
in  hieratic  characters,  which  are  an  abbreviated  form  of  hiero- 
S^lvphic  signs.  Papyri  with  hierogh'phics  are  nearly  always 
divided  bv  ruled  lines  into  narrow  vertical  columns  of  an  inch  or 
less  in  breadth,  in  which  the  hieroglyphic  signs  are  arranged  one 


MUMMY    CASES    AND    SARCOPHAGI. 


847 


under  the  other.  Sometimes  the  papyri  are  found  written  in  the 
enchorial  character.  Several  manuscripts  in  Greek  on  papyrus 
have  been  also  discovered  in  Egypt;  they  are,  however,  of  a  late 
date,  and  relate  to  the  sale  of  lands;  many  have  been  discovered 
referring  to  lands  and  possessions  about  Thebes,  one  ot"  which 
has  been  given  in  full  on  page  245. 


UI.SCOVERED   TOMB    WITH    ITS   TREASURES.       {At  PompeH.) 

Roman  Tombs. — Before  commencing  our  description  of  the 
tombs  which  line  the  way  as  the  visitor  approaches  Pompeii, 
and  seem  to  prepare  him  for  that  funeral  silence  which  reigns  in 
the  long-lost  city,  the  more  remarkable  for  its  contrast  with  the 
gay  and  festive  style  of  decoration  which  still  characterizes  the 
remains  which  surround  him,  it  is  our  intention,  as  we  have  done 


848  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

in  other  instances,  to  give  some  general  information  upon  the 
subject  which  we  are  about  to  treat  in  detail,  for  the  benefit  of 
those  among  our  readers  to  whom  the  forms  of  Roman  burial 
and  the  expressions  of  Roman  sorrow  are  unfamiliar. 

Great,  absurdly  great  among  the  uneducated,  as  is  the 
importance  attached  to  a  due  performance  of  the  rites  of  burial 
in  the  present  day,  it  is  as  nothing  compared  to  the  interest 
which  was  felt  on  this  subject  b}-  the  Romans;  and  not  by  them 
only,  but  by  other  nations  of  antiquit}-,  with  whose  manners  we 
have  nothing  to  do  here.  The  Romans  indeed  had  a  good 
reason  for  this  anxiety,  for  they  believed,  in  common  with  the 
Greeks,  that  if  the  body  remained  unentombed,  the  soul  wan- 
dered for  a  hundred  years  on  the  hither  side  of  the  Styx,  alone 
and  desponding,  unable  to  gain  admission  to  its  final  resting-place, 
whether  among  the  happy  or  the  miserable.  If,  therefore,  any 
person  perished  at  sea,  or  otherwise  under  such  circumstance^ 
that  his  body  could  not  be  found,  a  cefiotafh,  or  empty  tomb, 
was  erected  by  his  surviving  friends,  which  served  as  well  for  his 
passport  over  the  Stygian  ferry  as  if  his  body  had  been  burnt  or 
committed  to  the  earth  with  due  ceremonies.  Hence  it  became 
a  religious  duty,  not  rashly  to  be  neglected,  to  scatter  earth  over 
any  unburied  bod}^  which  men  chanced  to  see,  for  even  so  slight 
a  sepulchre  as  this  was  held  sufficient  to  appease  the  scruples  ot 
the  infernal  gods.  The  reader,  if  there  be  any  readers  of  Latin 
to  whom  these  superstitions  are  unfamiliar,  ma}'  refer  to  the 
sixth  book  of  the  ^Eneid,  line  325,  and  to  a  remarkable  ode  of 
Horace,  the  28th  of  the  first  book,  which  turns  entirely  upon  this 
subject.  Burial,  therefore,  was  a  matter  of  considerable  im- 
portance. 

When  death  approached,  the  nearest  relative  hung  over  the 
dying  person,  endeavoring  to  inhale  his  last  breath,  in  a  fond 
belief  that  the  amma,  the  living  principle,  departed  at  that 
moment,    and   by    that    passage    frotn    the    body.       Hence    the 


ROMAN    TOMBS.  849 

phrases,  anhnam  in  primo  ore  fenere^  spiritum  excipere^  and  the 
Hke.     It  is  curious  to  observe  how  an  estabHshed  form  of  expres- 
sion holds  its  ground.     Here  are  we,  alter  the  lapse  of  eighteen 
hundred  years,  still  talking  of  receiving  a  dying 
friend^s  last  breath,  as  if  we  really  meant  what 
we  say.      After    death  the   body  was  washed 
and    anointed  by  persons  called    polUnctores ; 
then  laid  out  on  a  bier,  the  feet  to  the  door, 
to  t3'pify  its  approaching  departure,  dressed  in 
the   best   attire  which  it   had  formerly  owned. 
The    bier  was    often   decked  with    leaves   and 
flowers,  a  simple  and  touching  tribute  of  affection,  which  is  of 
the  heart,  and   speaks   to  it,    and  therefore   has  maintained   its 
ground   in  every   age   and  region,  unaffected    by    the    constant 
changes  in  customs  merely  arbitrary  and  conventional. 

In  the  early  ages  of  Rome  the  rites  of  burial  and  burning 
seem  to  have  been  alike  in  use.  Afterwards  the  former  seems 
(for  the  matter  is  not  very  clear)  to  have  prevailed,  until 
towards  the  close  of  the  seventh  century  of  the  city,  after  the 
death  of  Sylla,  who  is  said  to  have  b.  en  the  first  of  the  patrician 
Cornelii  who  was  burnt.  Thenceforward  corpses  were  almost 
universally  consumed  by  fire  until  the  establishment  of  Christian- 
ity, when  the  old  fashion  was  brought  up  again,  burning  being 
violentl}"  opposed  by  the  fathers  of  the  church,  probably  on 
account  of  its  intimate  connection  with  Pagan  associations  and 
superstitions.  Seven  days,  we  are  told,  elapsed  between  death 
and  the  funeral;  on  the  eighth  the  corpse  was  committed  to  the 
flames;  on  the  ninth  the  ashes  were  deposited  in  the  sepulchre. 
This  probably  refers  only  to  the  funerals  of  the  great,  where 
much  splendor  and  extent  of  preparation  was  required,  and 
especially  those  public  funerals  (^funera  indictivd)  to  which  the 
whole  people  were  bidden  by  voice  of  crier,  the  ceremony  being 
often  closed  by  theatrical   and  gladiatorial    exhibitions,    and   a 

54 


850 


TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 


sumptuous  banquet.  But  we  have  no  intention  to  narrate  the 
pomp  which  accompanied  the  princely  nobles  of  Rome  to  the 
tomb:  it  is  enough  for  our  purpose  to  explain  the  usages  of 
private  life,  to  which  the  Street  of  Tombs  owes  its  origin  and  its 
interest. 

In  the  older  times  funerals  were  celebrated  at  night  because 
the  rites  of  religion  were  celebrated  by  day;  and  it  was  pollu- 
tion for  the  ministers,  or  for  anything  connected  with  worship  of 
the  deities  of  the  upper  world,  even  to  see,  much  more  to  touch, 
anything  connected  with  death.  From  this  nightly  solemniza- 
tion many  of  the  words  connected  with  this  subject  are  derived. 
Those  who  bore  the  bier  were  called  originally  Vesperones^ 
thence  Vespillones^  from  Vesper a^  evening;  and  the  very  term 
funus  is  derived  by  grammarians,  a  funallbus^  from  the  rope 
torches  coated  with  wax  or  tallow  which  continued  to  be  used 
long  after  the  necessity  for  using  them  ceased.  This  practice, 
now  far  more  than  two  thousand  years  old,  is  still  retained  in  the 
Roman  Church,  with  many  other  ceremonies  borrowed  from 
heathen  rites.  St.  Chrysostom  assures  us  that  it  is  not  of 
modern  revival,  and  givc^  a  beautiful  reason  for  its  being  re- 
tained. "Tell  me,"  he  says,  "what  mean  those  brilliant  lamps.'' 
Do  we  not  go  forth  with  the  dead  on  their  way  rejoicing,  as 
with  men  who  have  fought  their  fight  }  " 

The  corpse  being  placed  upon  a  litter  or  bier,  the  former 
being  used  by  the  wealthy,  the  latter  by  the  poor,  was  carried 
out  preceded  b}'  instrumental  musicians,  and  female  singers,  who 
chanted  the  dirge.  These  hired  attendants,  whose  noisy  sorrow 
was  as  genuine  as  the  dumb  grief  of  our  mutes,  were  succeeded, 
if  the  deceased  were  noble,  or  distinguished  by  personal  exploits, 
by  numerous  couches  containing  the  family  effigies  of  his  ances- 
tors, each  by  itself,  that  the  length  of  his  lineage  might  be  the 
more  conspicuous;  by  the  images  of  such  nations  as  he  had  con- 
quered, such  cities  as  he  had  taken;  by  the  spoils  which  he  had 


ROMAN    TOMBS.  85  I 

won;  by  the  ensigns  of  the  magistracies  which  he  had  filled;  but 
if  the  tasces  were  among  them  these  were  borne  reversed.  Then 
came  the  slaves  whom  he  had  emancipated  (and  often  with  a 
view  to  this  post-mortem  magnificence,  a  master  emancipated 
great  numbers  of  them),  wearing  hats  in  token  of  their  manu- 
mission. Behind  the  corpse  came  the  nearest  relations,  profuse 
in  the  display  of  grief  as  far  as  it  can  be  shown  b}'  weeping, 
howling,  beating  the  breasts  and  cheeks,  and  tearing  the  hair, 
which  was  laid,  as  a  last  tribute  of  affection,  on  the  breast  of  the 
deceased,  to  be  consumed  with  him.  To  shave  the  head  was 
also  a  sign  of  mourning.  It  is  a  curious  inversion  of  the  ordinary 
customs  of  life,  that  the  sons  of  the  deceased  mourned  with  the 
head  covered,  the  daughters  with  it  bare. 

With  this  attendance  the  body  was  borne  to  the  place  of 
burial,  being  usually  carried  through  the  Forum,  where,  if  the 
deceased  had  been  a  person  of  any  eminence,  a  funeral  oration 
was  spoken  from  the  rostra  in  his  honor.  The  place  of  burial 
was  without  the  city,  in  almost  every  instance.  By  the  twelve 
tables  it  was  enacted  that  no  one  should  be  burned  or  buried 
within  the  city;  and  as  this  wholesome  law  fell  into  disuse,  it 
was  from  time  to  time  revived  and  enforced.  The  reasons  for 
its  establishment  were  twofold,  religious  and  civil.  To  the 
former  head  belongs  the  reason,  already  assigned  for  a  different 
observance,  that  the  very  sight  of  things  connected  with  death 
brought  pollution  on  things  consecrated  to  the  gods  of  the 
upper  world.  So  far  was  this  carried  that  the  priest  of  Jupi- 
ter might  not  even  enter  any  place  where  there  was  a  tomb, 
or  so  much  as  hear  the  funeral  pipes;  nay,  his  wife,  the  Flaminica, 
might  not  wear  shoes  made  of  the  hide  of  an  ox  which  had  died 
a  natural  death,  because  all  things  which  had  died  spontaneously 
were  of  ill  omen.  Besides,  it  was  an  ill  omen  to  any  one  to  come 
upon  a  tomb  unawares.  Another  reason  was  that  the  public 
convenience  might  not  be  interrupted   by  private  rites,  since  no 


852 


TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 


tombs  could  be  removed  without  sacrilege  when  once  established, 
unless  by  the  state,  upon  sufficient  cause.  The  civil  reasons  are 
to  be  sought  in  the  unwholesome  exhalations  of  large  burying- 
grounds,  and  the  danger  of  fire  from  burning  funeral  piles  in  the 
neighborhood  of  houses.  It  is  not  meant,  however,  that  there 
were  no  tombs  within  the  city.  Some  appear  to  have  been  in- 
cluded by  the  gradual  extension  of  the  walls;  others  were  estab- 
lished in  those  intervals  when  the  law  of  the  twelve  tables  fell, 
as  we  have  said,  into  desuetude;  nor  does  it  appear  that  these 
were  destroyed,  nor  their  contents  removed.  Thus  both  the 
Claudian  and  the  Cincian  clans  had  sepulchres  in  Rome,  the 
former  under  the  Capitol. 


^^ 


ARTICLES  POUND   IN  A  TOMB 


If  the  family  were  of  sufficient  consequence  to  have  a  patri- 
monial tomb  the  deceased  was  laid  in  it;  if  he  had  none  such, 
and  was  wealth}',  he  usually  constructed  a  tomb  upon  his  prop- 
erty during  life,  or  bought  a  piece  of  ground  for  the  purpose. 
If  possible  the  tomb  was  always  placed  near  a  road.  Hence  the 
usual  form  of  inscription,  Siste^  Viator  (Stay,  Traveler),  con- 
tinually used  in  churches  b}''  those  small  wits  who  thought  that 
nothing  could  be  good  English  which  was  not  half  Latin,  and 
forgot  that  in  our  countr}'  the  traveler  must  have  stayed  already 
to  visit  the  sexton  before  he  can  possibly  do  so  in  compliance 
with  the  advice  of  the  monument.  For  the  poor  there  were 
public  burial-grounds,  called  puticuli^  a  -puteis^  from  the  trenches 
ready   dug   to   receive   bodies.      Such   was   the   ground    at    the 


ROMAN    TOMBS. 


853 


Esquiline  gate,  which  Augustus  gave  Maecenas  for  his  gardens. 
Public  tombs  were  also  granted  by  the  state  to  eminent  men,  an 
honor   in   early   times   conferred    on    few.     These   grants   were 
usually  made  in  the  Campus  Martins,  where  no  one  could  legally 
be  buried  without   a  decree  of  the  senate  in   his   favor.     It   ap- 
pears from  the   inscriptions   found   in   the   Street   of  Tombs,  at 
Pompeii,  that   much,  if  not   the  whole   of  the   ground   on  which 
those  tombs  are  built,  was  public  property,  the  property  of  the 
corporation,  as  we  should  now  say;   and  that  the  sites   of  many 
perhaps   of   all,   were   either   purchased  or  granted   by  the   de- 
curions,  or  municipal  senate,  in  gratitude  for  obligations  received. 
Sometimes  the  body  was  burned  at  the  place  where  it  was 
to  be  entombed,  which,  when  the  pile   and  sepulchre  were   thus 
joined,  was  called   bustum;  sometimes  the  sepulchre  was  at  a 
distance    from    the    place    of   burning,   which    was    then    called 
ustrina.     The  words  bustum  and  sepulchrum^  therefore,  thouo-h 
often  loosely  used   as  synonymous,  are  not  in  fact  so,  the  latter 
being  involved  in,  but  by  no   means  comprehending  the   former. 
The  pile  was  ordered  to  be   built   of  rough  wood,  unpolished  b}' 
the  ax.     Pitch  was  added  to  quicken  the  flames,  and  cypress, 
the  aromatic  scent  of  which  was  useful  to  overpower  the  stench 
of  the  burning  body.      The  funeral  piles  of  great   men  were   of 
immense  size  and  splendidly  adorned;  and  all  classes  appear  to 
have  indulged  their  vanity  in  this  respect  to  the  utmost  of  their 
means,  so  that  a  small  and  unattended  pyre  is  mentioned  as  the 
mark  of  an   insignificant   or   friendless  person.      The  body  was 
placed  on  it  in  the  litter  or  bier;  the  nearest  relation  present  then 
opened  the  eyes,  which  it  had  been  the  duty  of  the  same  person 
to  close  immediately  after  death,  and  set  tire  to   the  wood  with 
averted  face,  in  testim.ony  that  he  performed  that   office   not   of 
good  will,  but  of  necessity.     As  the  combustion  proceeded,  vari- 
ous offerings  were  cast  into   the   flames.     The  manes  were  be- 
lieved  to  love  blood;  animals,  therefore,  especially  those  which 


854  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

they  had  loved  while  alive,  were  killed  and  thrown  upon  the 
pile,  as  horses,  dogs  and  doves,  besides  the  beasts  commonly 
used  in  sacrifice,  as  sheep  and  oxen.  Human  beings,  especially 
prisoners  ot'  war,  were  sometimes  put  to  death,  though  not  in 
the  later  times  of  the  republic.  The  most  costly  robes  and 
arms  of  the  deceased,  especially  trophies  taken  in  warfare,  were 
also  devoted  in  his  honor,  and  the  blaze  was  fed  by  the  costly 
oils  and  gums  of  the  East.  The  body  being  reduced  to  ashes, 
these  were  then  quenched  with  wine,  and  collected  by  the  nearest 
relation;  after  which,  if  the  grief  were  real,  they  were  again 
bedewed  with  tears;  if  not,  wine  or  unguents  answered  the  pur- 
pose equally  well.  The  whole  ceremony  is  described  in  a  few 
lines  by  TibuUus: 

There,  while  the  fire  lies  smouldering  on  the  ground, 

My  bones,  the  all  of  me,  can  then  be  found. 

Arrayed  in  mourning  robes,  the  sorrowing  pair 

Shall  gather  all  around  with  pious  care; 

With  ruddy  wine  the  relics  sprinkle  o'er, 

And  snow)'  milk  on  them  collected  pour. 

Then  with  fair  linen  cloths  the  moisture  dry, 

Inurned  in  s  ime  cold  marble  tomb  to  lie. 

With  them  enclose  the  spices,  sweets,  and  gums, 

And  all  that  from  the  rich  Arabia  comes, 

And  what  Assyria's  wealthy  confines  send, 

And  tears,  sad  offering,  to  my  memory  lend. 

Eleg.  in.  2-17. 

The  ashes  thus  collected  were  then  finally  deposited  in  the 
urn,  which  was  made  of  different  materials,  according  to  the 
quality  of  the  dead;  usually  of  clay  or  glass,  but  sometimes  of 
marble,  bronze,  and  even  the  precious  metals.  The  ceremony 
thus  over,  the  prsefica  gave  the  word,  Ilicet  (the  contracted 
form  of  Ire  licet^  It  is  lawful  to  go),  and  the  bystanders 
departed,  having  been  thrice  sprinkled  with  a  branch  of  olive 
or  laurel  dipped  in  water,  to  purify  them  from  the  pollution  which 


ROMAN    TOMBS.  855 

they  had  contracted,  and  repeating  thrice  the  words,  Va/e,  or 
Salve,  words  of  frequent  occurrence  in  monumental  inscriptions, 
as  in  one  of  beautiful  simpHcity  which  we  quote: 

"  Farewell,  most  happy  soul  of  Caia  Oppia.  We  shall 
follow  thee  in  such  order  as  may  be  appointed  by  nature.  Fare- 
well, sweetest  mother." 

The  distinction  between  cenotaphs  and  tombs  has  been 
already  explained.  Cenotaphs,  however,  were  of  two  sorts: 
those  erected  to  persons  already  duly  buried,  which  were  merely 
honorary,  and  those  erected  to  the  unburied  dead,  which  had  a 
religious  end  and  efficacy.  This  evasion  of  the  penal  laws 
against  lying  unburied  was  chiefly  serviceable  to  persons  ship- 
wrecked or  slain  in  war;  but  all  came  in  for  the  benefit  of  it 
whose  bodies  could  not  be  found  or  identified.  When  a  cenotaph 
of  the  latter  class  was  erected  sacrifices  were  offered,  the  names 
of  the  deceased  were  thrice  invoked  with  a  loud  voice,  as  if  to 
summon  them  to  their  new  abode,  and  the  cenotaph  was  hallowed 
with  the  same  privileges  as  if  the  ashes  of  the  deceased  reposed 
within  it. 

The  heir,  however,  had  not  discharged  his  last  duty  when 
he  had  laid  the  body  of  his  predecessor  in  the  tomb;  there  were 
still  due  solemn  rites,  and  those  of  an  expensive  character. 
The  Romans  loved  to  keep  alive  the  memory  of  their  dead, 
showing  therein  a  constancy  of  affection  which  does  them  honor; 
and  not  only  immediately  after  the  funeral,  but  at  stated  periods 
from  time  to  time,  they  celebrated  feasts  and  offered  sacrifices 
and  Hbations  to  them.  The  month  of  February  was  especially 
set  apart  for  doing  honor  to  the  manes,  having  obtained  that 
distinction  in  virtue  of  being,  in  old  times,  the  last  month  of  the 
year.  Private  funeral  feasts  were  also  celebrated  on  the  ninth 
day  after  death,  and  indeed  at  any  time,  except  on  those  days 
which  were  marked  as  unlucky,  because  some  great  public  calam- 
ity   had    befallen    upon   them.       Besides  these  feasts,  the  dead 


856 


TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 


were  honored  with  sacrifices,  which  were  offered  to  the  manes, 
and  with  games;  but  the  latter  belong  more  to  those  splendid 
public  funerals  which  we  have  professed  not  to  describe.  The 
inferice  consisted  principally  of  libations,  tor  which  were  used 
water,  milk,  wine,  but  especially  blood,  the  smell  of  which  was 
thought  peculiarly  palatable  to  the  ghosts.  Perfumes  and  flowers 
were  also  thrown  upon  the  tomb;  and  the  inexpediency  of  wast- 
ing rich  wines  and  precious  oils  on  a  cold  stone  and  dead  body, 
when  they  might  be  employed  in  comforting  the  living,  was  a 
favorite  subject  with  the  bons  vivans  of  the  age.  It  was  with 
the  same  design  to  crown  it  with  garlands,  and  to  honor  it  with 
libations,  that  Electra  and  Orestes  met  and  recognized  each  other 
at  their  father's  tomb.  Roses  were  in  especial  request  for  this 
service,  and  lilies  also: 

Full  canisters  of  fragrant  lilies  bring, 
Mixed  with  the  purple  roses  of  the  Spring; 
Let  me  with  funeral  flowers  his  body  strow, 
This  gift  which  parents  to  their  children  owe, 
This  unavailing  gift  at  least  I  may  bestow. 

Dryden^  ^n.  vi.  883. 

Inscriptions. — Before  entering  upon  a  description  of  the 
catacombs,  we  will  speak  of  the  inscriptions  of  the  ancients.  Most 
of  the  tombs  are  really  Egyptian,  and  no  nation  has  left  so  many 
inscriptions  as  the  Egyptian.  All  its  monuments  are  covered 
with  them.  Its  temples,  palaces,  tombs,  isolated  monuments. 
present  an  infinite  number  of  inscriptions  in  hieroglyphic,  hieratic, 
and  demotic  characters.  The  Egyptians  rarely  executed  a  statue, 
or  figured  representation,  without  inscribing  by  its  side  its  name 
or  subject.  This  name  is  invariably  found  by  the  side  of  each 
divinity,  personage,  or  individual.  In  each  painted  scene,  on  each 
sculptured  figure,  an  inscription,  more  or  less  extensive,  explains 
its  subject. 

The  characters  used  by  the  Egyptians  were  of  three  kinds — 


INSCRIPTIONS. 


«57 


T 


hierogl3^phic,  hieratic,  and   demotic.     The   latter   has   been    also 
termed   e^ichorial.,    or    popular.       The    first    was  •  •  • 

doubtless  a  system   of    representational  signs,   or         =f^  1=4    « 
picture   writing — the   earliest   form  of  writing,    in 
the  first  stage  of  its  development;  the   hieratic  is      u 
an  abbreviated   form  of  the  hieroglyphic;  the   de-       ^  ±^ 

motic,  a  simplified  form  of  the  hieratic,  and  a  near    \  \  \         C_-3 
approach  towards  the  alphabetic  system. 

Hieroglyphics  (styled  by  the  Egyptians  skhai 
en  neter  tiw — writing  of  sacred  words)  are  com-  V  V  / 
posed  of  signs  representing  objects  of  the  physical  hieroglyphics. 
world,  as  animals,  plants,  stars,  man  and  his  difi^erent  members, 
and  various  objects.  They  are  pure  or  linear,  the  latter  being  a 
reduction  of  the  former.  The  pure  were  always  sculptured  or 
painted.  The  linear  were  generally  used  in  the  earlier  pap3Ti, 
containing  funeral  rituals. 

They  have  been  divided  into  four  classes: — i,  Representa- 
tional or  ikonographic;  2,  Symbolic  or  tropical;  3,  Enigmatic; 
4,  Phonetic.  From  the  examination  of  hieroglyphic  inscriptions 
of  different  ages,  it  is  evident  that  these  four  classes  of  svmbols 
were  used  promiscuously,  according  to  the  pleasure  and  con- 
venience of  the  artist. 

1.  Ikonographic,  representational,  or  imitative  hieroglyphics, 
are  those  that  present  the  images  of  the  things  expressed,  as  the 
sun's  disk  to  signify  the  sun,  the  crescent  to  signify  the  moon. 
These  may  be  styled  pure  hieroglyphics. 

2.  The  symbolical,  or  tropical  (b}'  Bunsen  termed  ideo- 
graphic), substituted  one  object  for  another,  to  which  it  bore  an 
analogy,  as  heaven  and  a  star  expressed  night;  a  leg  in  a  trap, 
deceit;  two  arms  stretched  towards  heaven  expressed  the  word 
offering;  a  censer  with  some  grains  of  incense,  adoration;  a  bee 
was  made  to  signify  Lower  Egypt;  the  fore-quarters  of  a  lion, 
strength;    a   crocodile,   darkness.     The    following  hierogl3'phics 


8^8  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

were  on  the  triumph  Hall  Thothmes  III.,  and  mean,  after  trans- 
lating : 

\\  W    J^  -^  lit  ^ 

''  I  went:  I  order  that  you  reduce  and  crush  all  the  high 
officers  of  Tsahi.  I  cast  them  together  with  all  their  possessions 
at  thy  feet." 

This  kind  of  character  appears  to  have  been  particularly 
invented  for  the  expression  of  abstract  ideas,  especially  belong- 
in^''  to  religion  or  the  royal  power.  These  are  the  characters 
generally  alluded  to  by  the  ancients  when  they  speak  of  hiero- 
glyphics, and  are  the  most  difficult  of  interpretation. 

3.  Enigmatic  are  those  in  which  an  emblematic  figure  is  put 
in  lieu  of  the  one  intended  to  be  represented,  as  a  hawk  for  the 
sun;  a  seated  figure  with  a  curved  beard,  for  a  god.  These  three 
kinds  were  either  used  alone^  or  in  company  with  the  phoneti- 
cally written  word  they  represented.  Thus:  i.  The  word  Ra, 
sun,  might  be  written  in  letters  only,  or  be  also  followed  by  the 
ikonograph,  the  solar  disk  (which  if  alone  would  still  have  the 
same  meaning — Ra,  the  sun).  So,  too,  the  word  "  moon,"  Aah, 
wa*^  followed  by  the  crescent.  In  these  cases  the  sign  so  following 
the  pnonetic  word  has  been  called  a  terminative^  from  its  serving 
to  determine  the  meaning  of  what  preceded  it.  We  give  here 
a  few  words  translated: 


«st^Wji&y-^^<^ 


"In  3^our  transformation  as  golden  sperbe  you  have  accom- 
plished it." 

2.  In  the  same  manner,  the  tropical  hierogl3'phics  might  be 
alone  or  in  company  with  the  word  written  phonetically;  and  the 
expression  "  to  write,"  skliai^  might   be  followed  or  not   by  its 


INSCRIPTIONS.  859 

tropical  hieroglyphic,  the  '^  pen  and  inkstand,"  as  its  determina- 
tive sign.  3.  The  emblematic  figure,  a  hawk-headed  god,  bear- 
ing the  disk,  signitying  the  "sun,"  might  also  be  alone,  or  alter 
the  name  "  Ra  "  written  phonetically,  as  a  determinative  sign; 
and  as  a  general  rule  the  determinative  followed,  instead  oi'  pre- 

/'^^i*.^'— •   S /%       J     Y^         ceding  the  names.     Determina- 
'       \         '  •^        -        tives  are    ol    two   kinds — ideo- 

grams, and  generic  determinatives:  the  first  were  the  pictures  of 
the  object  spoken  of;  the  second,  conventional  symbols  of  the 
class  of  notions  expressed  by  the  word. 

4,  Phonetic.  Phonetic  characters  or  signs  were  those  ex- 
pressiV'C  ot  sounds.  They  are  either  purely  alphabetic  or 
syllabic.  All  the  other  Egyptian  phonetic  signs  have  syllabic 
values,  which  are  resolvable  into  combinations  of  the  letters  of 
the  alphabet.  This  phonetic  principle  being  admitted,  the  num- 
bers of  figures  used  to  represent  a  sound  might  have  been  in- 
creased almost  without  limit,  and  any  hieroglyphic  might  stand 
for  the  first  letter  of  its  name.  So  copious  an  alphabet  would 
have  been  a  continual  source  of  error.  The  characters,  there- 
fore, thus  applied,  were  soon  fixed,  and  the  Egyptians  practically 
confined  themselves  to  particular  hieroglyphics  in  writing  cer- 
tain words. 


rMU^s>^t5t 


"  Out  of  bad  comes  good." 
Hieroglyphic  writing  was  employed  on  monuments  of  all 
kinds,  on  temples  as  well  as  on  the  smallest  figures,  and  on 
bricks  used  for  building  purposes.  On  the  most  ancient  monu- 
ments this  writing  is  absolutely  the  same  as  on  the  most  recent 
Egyptian  work.  Out  of  Egypt  there  is  scarcely  a  single  exam- 
ple of  a  graphic  system  identically  the  same  during  a  period  of 
over  two  thousand  3'ears.  The  hieroglyphic  characters  were 
either  engraved  in  relief,  or  sunk  below  the  surface  on  the  public 


86o  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

monuments,  and  objects  of  hard  materials  suited  for  the  glyptic 
art.  The  hieroglyphics  on  the  monuments  are  either  sculptured 
and  plain,  or  decorated  with  colors.  The  colored  are  divided 
into  two  distinct  classes,  the  monochromatic  of  one  simple  tone, 
and  the  pol3'chromatic,  or  those  which  rendered  with  more  or 
less  fidelity  the  color  of  the  object  they  were  intended  to  depict. 
The  hieroglyphic  figures  were  arranged  in  vertical  columns  or 
horizontal  lines,  and  grouped  together  as  circumstances  re- 
quired, so  as  to  leave  no  spaces  unnecessarily  vacant.  They 
were  written  from  right  to  left,  or  from  left  to  right.  The  order 
in  which  the  characters  were  to  be  read,  was  shown  by  the 
direction  in  which  the  figures  are  placed,  as  their  heads  are  in- 
variably turned  towards  the  reader.  A  single  line  of  hiero- 
glyphics— the  dedication  of  a  temple  or  of  an}'  other  monument, 
for  example — proceeds  sometimes  one  half  from  left  to  right, 
and  the  other  half  from  right  to  left;  but  in  this  case  a  sign, 
such  as  the  sacred  tau,  or  an  obelisk,  which  has  no  particular 
direction,  is  placed  in  the  middle  of  the  inscription,  and  it  is  from 
that  sign  that  the  two  halves  of  the  inscription  take  each  an  op- 
posite direction. 

The  period  when  hieroglyphics — the  oldest  Egyptian  char- 
acters— were  first  used,  is  uncertain.  They  are  found  in  the 
Great  Pyramid  of  the  time  of  the  fourth  dynast}',  and  had  evi- 
dently been  invented  long  before,  having  already  assumed  a 
cursive  style.*  This  shows  them  to  be  far  older  than  any  other 
known  writing;  and  the  written  documents  of  the  ancient 
languages  of  Asia,  the  Sanskrit  and  the  Zend,  are  of  a  recent 
time  compared  with  those  of  Egypt,  even  if  the  date  of  the  Rig- 
Veda  in  the  fifteenth  century  B.  C.  be  proved.  Manetho  shows 
that  the  invention  of  writing  was  known  in  the  reign   of  Athoth 

*The  most  ancient  liieroglyphs,  according  to  M.  Pierret,  which  can  be  seen  in  an 
European  museum,  are  those  on  the  statues  of  Sefa  and  Nesa  in  the  Louvre;  they  date 
from  a  period  anterior  to  the  fourth  dynasty.  The  lintel  of  the  door  of  the  tomb  of  one 
of  the  priests  of  Senat,  fifth  Kinc;  of  tlie  second  dynasty  in  the  Ashmolean  Library, 
Oxford,  exhii)it3,  however,  hieroglyphs  of  an  earlier  date. 


INSCRIPTIONS.  86l 

(the  son  and  successor  of  Menes),  the  second  King  of  Egypt, 
when  he  ascribes  to  him  the  writing  of  the  anatomical  books, 
and  tradition  assigned  to  it  a  still  earlier  origin.  At  all  events, 
hierogl}'phics,  and  the  use  of  the  papyrus,  with  the  usual  reed 
pen,  are  shown  to  have  been  common  when  the  pyramids  were 
built,  and  their  style  in  the  sculptures  proves  that  they  were 
then  a  very  old  invention.  In  hieroglyphics  of  the  earliest 
periods  there  were  fewer  phonetic  characters  than  in  after  ages, 
these  periods  being  nearer  to  the  original  picture-writing.  The 
number  of  signs  also  varied  at  different  times;  but  they  may 
be  reckoned  at  from  900  to  1,000.  Various  new  characters  were 
added  at  subsequent  periods,  and  a  still  greater  number  were  intro- 
duced under  the  Ptolemies  and  Caesars,  which  are  not  found  in  the 
early  monuments;  some,  again,  of  the  older  times,  fell  into  disuse. 

Hieratic  is  an  abbreviated  form  of  the  hierogl3'phic;  thus 
each  hieroglyphic  sign — ikonographic,  symbolic,  or  phonetic — 
has  its  abridged  hieratic  form,  and  this  abridged  form  has  the 
same  import  as  the  sign  itself  of  which  it  is  a  reduced  copy.  It 
was  written  from  right  to  left,  and  was  the  character  used  by  the 
priests  and  sacred  scribes,  whence  its  name.  It  was  invented  at 
least  as  early  as  the  ninth  dynasty  (4,240  3'ears  ago),  and  fell  into 
disuse  when  the  demotic  had  been  introduced.  The  hieratic 
writing  was  generally  used  for  manuscripts,  and  is  also  found  on 
the  cases  of  mummies,  and  on  isolated  stones  and  tablets.  L.ong 
inscriptions  have  been  written  on  them  with  a  brush.  Inscrip- 
tions of  this  kind  are  also  found  on  buildings,  written  or  engraved 
by  ancient  travelers.  But  its  most  important  use  was  in  the  his- 
torical papyri,  and  the  registers  of  the  temples.  Most  valuable 
information  respecting  the  chronology  and  numeric  systems  of 
the  Egyptians  has  been  derived  from  them. 

Demotic,  or  enchorial,  is  composed  of  signs  derived  from  the 
hieratic,  and  is  a  simplified  form  of  it,  but  from  which  figurative 
or  ikonographic  signs  arc   generally  excluded,  and   but  few  sym- 


862 


TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 


bolical  signs,  relative  to  religion  alone,  are  retained ;  signs  nearly 
approaching  the  alphabetic  are  chiefly  met  with  in  this  third  kind 
of  writing.  It  was  invariably  written,  like  the  hieratic,  from 
rio-ht  to  left.  It  is  thus  evident  that  the  Egyptians,  strictly 
speaking,  had  but  one  system  of  writing,  composed  of  three  kinds 
of  signs,  the  second  and  third  being  regularly  deduced  from  the 
first,  and  all  three  governed  by  the  same  fundamental  principles. 
The  demotic  was  reserved  for  general  use  among  the  Egyptians: 
decrees  and  other  public  acts,  contracts,  some  funeral  stelse,  and 
private  transactions,  were  written  in  demotic. 
The  intermediate  text  of  the  Rosetta  inscription 
is  of  this  kind.  It  is  not  quite  certain  when  the 
demotic  first  came  into  use,  but  it  was  at  least 
as  early  as  the  reign  of  Psammetichus  II.,  of 
the  twenty-sixth  dynasty  (B.  C.  604);  and  it  had 
therefore  long  been  empIo3'ed  when  Herodotus 
visited  Eg3'pt.  Soon  after  its  invention  it  was 
adopted  for  all  ordinary  purposes. 

The  chief  objects  of  interest  in  the  study  of 
an  Egyptian  inscription  are  its  historical  indica- 
tions. These  are  found  in  the  names  of  Kings 
or  of  chief  officers,  and  in  the  dates  they  con- 
tain. The  names  of  Kings  are  always  enclosed 
in  an  oval  called  cartouche.  An  oval  contains 
either  the  royal  title  or  prgenomen,  or  the  proper 
name  or  nomen  of  the  King. 

The  dates  which  are  found  with  these  royal 
legends  are  also  of  great   importance   in  an  his- 
torical point  of  view,  and  monuments  which  bear 
any  numerical  indications  are  exceedingly  rare. 
These  numerical   indications   are  either  the  age 
EGYPTIAN  PILLAR,   of  thc  dcccascd  on  a  funeral  tablet,  or  the  num- 
ber of  different  consecrated   objects  which  he   has  offered  to  the 
gods,    or   the   date   of    an  event   mentioned    in    the    inscription. 


INSCRIPTIONS.  863 

Dates,  properly  so  called,  are  the  most  interesting  to  collect;  they 
are  expressed  in  hieroglyphic  cyphers,  single  lines  expressing  the 
number  of  units  up  to  nine,  when  an  arbitrar}-  sign  represents  10, 
another  100,  and  another  10,000. 

The  most  celebrated  Egyptian  inscriptions  are  those  of  the 
Rosetta  stone.  This  stone,  a  tablet  of  black  basalt,  contains 
three  inscriptions,  one  in  hieroglyphics,  another  in  demotic  or 
enchorial,  and  a  third  in  the  Greek  language.  The  inscriptions 
are  to  the  same  purport  in  each,  and  are  a  decree  of  the  priest- 
hood of  Memphis,  in  honor  of  Ptolem}'  Epiphanes,  about  the 
year  B.  C.  196.  "  Ptolemy  is  there  styled  King  of  Upper  and 
Lower  Egypt,  Son  of  the  gods  Philopatores,  approved  by  Pthah, 
to  whom  Ra  has  given  victory,  a  living  image  of  Amun,  son 
of  Ra,  Ptolemy  Immortal,  beloved  by  Pthah,  God  Epiphanes, 
most  gracious.  In  the  date  of  the  decree  we  are  told  the  names 
of  the  priests  of  Alexander,  of  the  gods  Soteres,  of  the  gods 
Adelphi,  of  the  gods  Euergetse,  of  the  gods  Philopatores,  of  the 
god  Epiphanes  himself,  of  Berenice  Euergetis,  of  Arsinoe  Phila- 
delphus,  and  of  Arsinoe  Philopator.  The  preamble  mentions 
with  gratitude  the  services  of  the  King,  or  rather  of  his  wise 
minister,  Aristomenes,  and  the  enactment  orders  that  the  statue 
of  the  King  shall  be  worshipped  in  every  temple  of  Egypt,  and 
be  carried  out  in  the  processions  with  those  of  the  gods  of  the 
country,  and  lastly  that  the  decree  is  to  be  carved  at  the  foot 
of  every  statue  of  the  King  in  sacred,  in  common  and  in  Greek 
writing "  (Sharpe).  It  is  now  in  the  British  Museum.  This 
stone  is  remarkable  for  having  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  sys- 
tem pursued  by  the  Egyptians  in  their  monumental  writing,  and 
for  having  furnished  a  key  to  its  interpretation.  Dr.  Young 
giving  the  first  hints  by  establishing  the  phonetic  value  of  the 
hieroglyphic  signs,  which  were  followed  up  and  carried  out  by 
Champollion. 

Another  important  and  much  more  ancient  inscription  is  the 


864  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

tablet  of  Abydos  in  the  British  Museum.  It  was  discovered  by 
Mr.  Banks  in  a  chamber  of  the  temple  of  Abydos,  in  18 18.  It 
is  now  greatly  disfigured,  but  when  perfect  it  represented  an 
offering  made  by  Remeses  XL,  of  the  nineteenth  dynasty,  to  his 
predecessors  on  the  throne  of  Egypt.  The  tablet  is  of  fine  lime- 
stone, and  originall}'  contained  the  names  of  fifty-two  Kings 
disposed  in  the  two  upper  lines,  twenty-six  in  each  line,  and  a 
third  or  lower  line  with  the  name  and  praenomen  of  Remeses  II. 
or  III.  repeated  twenty-six  times.  On  the  upper  line,  beginning 
from  the  right  hand,  are  the  names  of  monarchs  anterior  to  the 
twelfth  dynasty.  The  names  in  the  second  line  are  those  of 
monarchs  of  the  twelfth  and  the  eighteenth  or  nineteenth  dynas- 
ties. The  King  Remeses  II.  probably  stood  on  the  right  hand 
of  the  tablet,  and  on  the  other  is  the  lower  part  of  a  figure  of 
Osiris.  The  lateral  inscription  is  the  speech  of  the  deceased 
King  to  "  their  son  "  Remeses  II. 

The  tablet  of  Karnac,  now  in  one  of  the  halls  of  the  Biblio- 
theque  at  Paris,  was  discovered  by  Burton  in  a  chamber  situated 
in  the  southeast  angle  of  the  temple- palace  of  Thebes,  and  was 
published  by  its  discoverer  in  his  "Excerpta  Hieroglyphica." 
The  chamber  itself  was  fully  described  by  Rosellini  in  his 
"  Monumenti  Storici."  The  Kings  are  in  two  rows,  overlooked 
each  of  them  by  a  large  figure  of  Thothmes  III.,  the  fifth  King 
of  the  eighteenth  dynasty.  In  the  row  to  the  left  of  the  en- 
trance are  thirty-one  names,  and  in  that  to  the  right  are  thirty, 
all  of  them  predecessors  of  Thothmes.  The  Theban  Kings  who 
ruled  in  Upper  Egypt  during  the  usurpation  of  the  Hyksos  in- 
vaders are  also  exhibited  amoncr  the  lists.  Over  the  head  of 
each  King  is  his  oval,  containing  his  ro3^al  titles. 

A  most  valuable  tablet  of  Kings  has  been  lately  discovered 
by  M.  Mariette  in  a  tomb  near  Memphis,  that  of  a  priest  wjio 
lived  under  Remeses  II.,  and  was  called  Tunar-i.  It  contains 
^wo   rows  ol'  Kings'  names,  each   twenty-nine   in  number.     Six 


INSCRIPTIONS.  865 

have  been  wholly  obliterated  out  of  the  upper  row,  and  five  out 
of  the  lower  row.  The  upper  row  contains  the  names  of  Rem- 
eses  II.  and  his  predecessors,  who  seem  all  meant  for  Kings  of 
Upper  Egypt,  or  Kings  of  Memphis  who  ruled  over  Upper 
Egypt,  while  the  names  in  the  lower  row  seem  meant  for  con- 
temporaneous High  Priests  of  Memphis,  some  or  all  of  whom 
may  have  called  themselves  Kings  of  Lower  Egypt.  The  result 
of  the  comparison  of  this  tablet  with  other  authorities,  namely, 
Manetho,  Eratosthenes,  and  the  tablet  of  Abydos,  is  supposed 
by  some  to  contradict  the  longer  views  of  chronology  held  by 
Bunsen,  Lepsius  and  others.  Thus,  reading  the  list  of  names 
backwards  from  Remeses  II.  to  Amosis,  the  first  of  the  eigh- 
teenth dynasty,  this  tablet,  like  the  tablet  of  Abydos,  immedi- 
ately jumps  to  the  Kings  of  Manetho's  twelfth  dynasty;  thus 
arguing  that  the  intermediate  five  dynasties  mentioned  by  Mane- 
tho must  have  been  reigning  contemporaneously  with  the  others, 
and  add  no  length  of  time  to  a  table  of  chronology.  There  is 
also  a  further  omission  in  this  tablet  of  four  more  dynasties. 
This  tablet  would  thus  seem  to  confirm  the  views  of  the  oppo- 
nents of  the  longer  chronology  of  Bunsen  and  others,  by  striking 
out  from  the  long  chronology  two  periods  amounting  together  to 
1,536  years.  But  a  complete  counterpart  of  the  tablet  of  Mem- 
phis has  been  recently  found  at  Abydos  by  M.  Mariette,  fully 
confirming  the  chronology  of  Manetho,  and  bearing  out  the 
views  of  Bunsen  and  Lepsius.  The  Moniteur  publishes  a  letter 
from  M.  Mariette,  containing  the  following  statement: — "  At 
Abydos  I  have  discovered  a  magnificent  counterpart  of  the  tablet 
of  Sakharah.  Seti  I.,  accompanied  by  his  son,  subsequently  Rem- 
eses II.  (Sesostris),  presents  an  offering  to  seventy-six  Kings 
drawn  up  in  line  before  him.  Menes  (the  first  King  of  the  first 
dynasty  on  Manetho's  list)  is  at  their  head.  From  Menes  to 
Seti  I.,  this  formidable  list  passes  through  nearly  all  the  dynas- 
ties.    The  first  six  are  represented  therein.     We  are  next  intro- 

55 


866  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

duced  to  sovereigns  still  unknown  to  us,  belonging  to  the  obscure 
period  which  extends  from  the  end  of  the  sixth  to  the  beginning 
of  the  eleventh.  From  the  eleventh  to  the  eighteenth  the  new 
table  follows  the  beaten  track,  which  it  does  not  quit  again  dur- 
ino-  the  reign  of  Thothmes,  Amenophis,  and  the  first  Remeses. 
If  in  this  new  list  everything  is  not  absolutely  new,  we  at  least 
find  in  it  a  valuable  confirmation  of  Manetho^s  list,  and  in  the 
present  state  of  science  we  can  hardly  expect  more.  Whatever 
confirms  Manetho  gives  us  confidence  in  our  own  efforts,  even  as 
whatever  contradicts  it  weakens  the  results  we  obtain.  The  new 
tablet  of  Abydos  is,  moreover,  the  completest  and  best  preserved 
monument  we  possess  in  this  respect.  Its  style  is  splendid,  and 
there  is  not  a  single  cartouche  or  oval  wanting.  It  has  been 
found  engraved  on  one  of  the  walls  of  a  small  chamber  in  the 
large  temple  of  Abydos." 

An  important  stone  bearing  a  Greek  inscription  with  equiv- 
alent Egyptian  hieroglyphics  has  been  discovered  by  Professor 
Lepsius,  at  San,  the  former  Tanis,  the  chief  scene  of  the  grand 
architectural  undertakings  of  Remeses  II.  The  Greek  inscrip- 
tion consists  of  seventy-six  lines,  in  the  most  perfect  preservation, 
dating  from  the  time  of  Ptolemy  Euergetes  I.  (B.  C.  238).  The 
hieroglyphical  inscription  has  thirty-seven  lines.  It  was  also 
found  that  a  demotic  inscription  was  ordered  to  be  added  by  the 
priests,  on  a  stone  or  brass  stele,  in  the  sacred  writing  of  the 
Egyptians  and  in  Greek  characters;  this  is  unfortunately  want- 
ing. The  contents  of  the  inscription  are  of  great  interest.  It  is 
dated  the  ninth  year  the  seventh  Apellseus — seventeen  Tybi,  of 
the  reign  of  Euergetes  I.  The  priests  of  Egypt  came  together 
in  Canopus  to  celebrate  the  birthday  of  Euergetes,  on  the  fifth 
Dios,  and  his  assumption  of  the  royal  honor  on  the  twenty-eighth 
of  the  same  month,  when  the}'-  passed  the  decree  here  published. 
They  enumerate  all  the  good  deeds  of  the  King,  amongst  them 
the  merit  of  having  recovered  in  a  military  expedition  the  sacred 


INSCRIPTIONS. 


867 


images  carried  off  in  former  times  by  the  Persians,  and  order 
great  honors  to  be  paid  in  reward  for  his  services.  This  tablet 
of  calcareous  stone  with  a  rounded  top,  is  about  seven  feet  hio-h 
and  is  completely  covered  by  the  inscription.  The  discovery  of 
this  stone  is  of  the  greatest  importance  for  hieroglyphical  studies. 

We  may  mention  here  another 
inscribed  tablet,  the  celebrated  Isiac 
table  in  the  Museum  at  Turin.  It  is 
a  tablet  in  bronze,  covered  with  Egyp- 
tian figures  or  hierogl3^phics  engraved 
or  sunk,  the  outlines  being  filled  with 
silvering,  forming  a  kind  of  niello. 
It  was  one  of  the  first  objects  that  ex- 
cited an  interest  in  the  interpretation 
of  hierogl3'phics,  and  elicited  learned 
solutions  from  Kircher  and  others. 
It  is  now  considered  to  be  one  of  those 
pseudo- Egyptian  productions  so  ex- 
tensively fabricated  during  the  reign 
of  Hadrian. 

The  Egyptian  obelisks  also  pre- 
sent important  inscriptions.  Of  these 
the  most  ancient  is  that  of  Heliopolis. 

We  have  selected  these  few  ex- 
amples of  Egyptian  inscriptions  for 
their  celebrity.  Almost  ever}'  Egyp- 
tian monument,  of  whatever  period, 
temples,  statues,  tablets,  small  statues, 
were  inscribed  with  hieroglyphic  in- 
scriptions, all  generally  executed  with  great  care  and  finish. 
The  Egyptian  edifices  were  also  covered  with  religious  or  his- 
torical tableaux,  sculptured  and  painted  on  all  the  walls;  it  has 
been  estimated  that  in  one  single  temple  there  existed  no  less 


EGYPTIAN    COLUMN. 


868  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

than  30,000  square  feet  of  sculpture,  and  at  the  sides  of  these 
tableaux  were  innumerable  inscriptions,  equally  composed  of 
ino-eniously  grouped  figurative  signs,  in  explanation  of  the  sub- 
jects, and  combining  with  them  far  more  happily  than  if  they 
had   been  the  finest   alphabetical  characters  in  the  world. 

Their  study  would  require  more  than  a  lifetime,  and  we 
have  onl}'  space  to  give  a  few  general  hints. 

We  have  a  n.uch  more  accurate  knowledge  of  Greek  in- 
scriptions than  we  have  of  Egyptian  palaeography.  The  Greek 
alphabet,  and  all  its  variations,  as  well  as  the  language,  customs, 
and  history  of  that  illustrious  people,  are  better  known  to  us. 
Greek  inscri^.tions  lead  us  back  to  those  glorious  periods  of  the 
Greek  people  when  their  heroes  and  writers  made  themselves 
immortal  by  their  illustrious  deeds  and  writings.  What  emo- 
tions must  arise  in  the  breast  of  the  archaeologist  who  finds  in  a 
marble  worn  by  time  the  funereal  monument  placed  by  Athens, 
twenty- three  centuries  ago,  over  the  grave  of  its  warriors  who 
died  before  Potidaea. 

"  Their  souls  high  heaven  received;  their  bodies  gained, 
In  Potidaga's  plains,  this  hallowed  tomb. 
Their  foes  unnumbered  fell:  a  few  remained 

Saved  by  their  ramparts  from  the  general  doom. 
The  victor  city  mourns  her  heroes  slain, 

Foremost  in  fight,  they  for  her  glory  died." 

The  most  important  monumental  inscription  which  presents 
Greek  records,  illustrating  and  establishing  the  chronology  of 
Greek  history,  is  the  Parian  chronicle,  now  preserved  among  the 
Arundelian  marbles  at  Oxford.  It  was  so  called  from  the  sup- 
position of  its  having  been  made  in  the  Island  of  Paros,  B.  C. 
26;^.  In  its  perfect  state  it  was  a  square  tablet,  of  coarse  mar- 
ble, five  inches  thick;  and  when  Selden  first  inspected  it  it 
measured  three  feet  seven  inches  by  two  feet  seven  inches.  On 
this  stone  were  engraved  some  of  the  principal   events   in   the 


INSCRIPTIONS.  869 

history  of  ancient  Greece,  forming  a  compendium  of  chronology 
during  a  series  of  1,318  years,  which  commenced  with  the  reign 
of  Cecrops,  the  first  King  of  Athens,  B.  C.  1582,  and  ended 
with  the  archonship  of  Diognetus.  It  was  deciphered  and  pub- 
lished by  the  learned  Selden  in  1628.  It  makes  no  mention  of 
Olympiads,  and  reckons  backwards  from  the  time  then  present 
by  years. 

Particular  attention  should  be  paid,  in  the  interpretation  of 
Greek  inscriptions,  to  distinguish  the  numerous  titles  of  magis- 
trates of  every  order,  of  public  officers  of  different  ranks,  the 
names  of  gods  and  of  nations,  those  of  towns,  and  the  tribes  of  a 
city;  the  prescribed  formulas  lor  different  kinds  of  monuments; 
the  text  of  decrees,  letters,  etc.,  which  are  given  or  cited  in 
analogous  texts;  the  names  of  monuments,  such  as  stelae,  tablets, 
cippi,  etc.,  the  indication  of  places,  or  parts  belonging  to  those 
places,  where  they  ought  to  be  set  up  or  deposited,  such  as  a 
temple  or  vestibule,  a  court  or  perist3^1e,  public  square,  etc. ;  those 
at  whose  cost  it  was  set  up,  the  entire  city  or  a  curia,  the  public 
treasure,  or  a  private  fund,  the  names  and  surnames  of  public  or 
private  individuals;  prerogatives  or  favors  granted,  such  as  the 
right  of  asylum,  of  hospitality,  of  citizenship;  the  punisb.ments 
pronounced  against  those  who  should  destroy  or  mutilate  the 
monument;  the  conditions  of  treaties  and  alliances;  the  indica- 
tions of  weights,  moneys  and  measures. 

Another  early  example  of  a  commemorative  inscription  of 
which  the  date  can  also  be  positively  fixed  is  that  lately  discovered 
by  Dr.  Frick  on  the  bronze  serpent  w'th  the  three  heads,  now  at 
Constantinople,  which  supported  the  golden  tripod  which  was 
dedicated,  as  Herodotus  states,  to  Apollo  by  the  allied  Greeks 
as  a  tenth  of  the  Persian  spoils  at  Platgea,  and  which  was  placed 
near  the  altar  at  Delphi.  On  this  monument,  as  we  learn  from 
Thucydides,  Pausanias.  regent  of  Sparta,  inscribed  an  arrogant 
distich,  in  which  he  commemorates  the  victor}^  in  his  own  name 


Syo 


TOMBS    AND    (JAi  AUOMiiS. 


as  o-eneral  in  chief,  hardly  mentioning  the  allied  forces  who 
gained  it.  This  epigram  was  subsequently  erased  by  the 
Lacedaemonians,  who  substituted  it  for  an  inscription  enumerat- 
ino-  the  various  Hellenic  states  who  had  taken  a  part  in  repulsing 
the  Persian  invaders.  The  inscription  contains  exactly  what  the 
statements  of  Thucydides  and  Herodotus  would  lead  us  to  ex- 
pect; the  names  of  those  Greek  states  which  took  an  active  part 
in  the  defeat  of  the  Persians.  Thirty-one  names  have  been  de- 
ciphered, and  there  seem  to  be  traces  of  three  more.  The  first 
three  names  in  the  list  are  the  Lacedaemonians,  Athenians,  Corin- 
thians. The  remainder  are  nearly  identical  with  those  inscribed 
on  the  statue  of  Zeus  at  Olympia,  as  they  are  given  by  Pausanias. 
The  names  of  the  several  states  seem  to  be  arranged  on  the 
serpent  generally  according  to  their  relative  importance,  and  also 
with  some  regard  to  their  geographical  distribution.  The  states 
of  continental  Greece  are  enumerated  first;  then  the  islanders 
and  outlying  colonies  in  the  north  and  west.  It  is  supposed  the 
present  inscription  was  placed  on  the  serpent  B.  C.  476. 

The  dedicatory  inscriptions  on  the  statues  at  Branchidae  prob- 
ably range  from  B.  C.  580-520.  The  famous  Sigean  inscrip- 
tion, brought  from  the  Troad  to  England  in  the  last  century,  is 
now  admitted  to  be  not  a  pseudo-archaic  imitation,  as  Bockh 
maintained,  but  a  genuine  specimen  of  Greek  writing  in  Asia 
Minor,  contemporary,  or  nearly  so,  with  the  Branchidae  inscrip- 
tions. Kirchhoff  considers  it  not  later  than  Olympiad  69  (B. 
C  504-500). 

A  most  interesting  inscription  of  the  archaic  period  is  the 
celebrated  bronze  tablet,  which  Sir  William  Gell  obtained  from 
Olympia,  and  on  which  is  engraved  a  treat}'  between  the  Eleans 
and  I  Icneans.  The  terms  of  this  specimen  of  ancient  diplomacy 
are  singularly  concise.  KirchliofF  places  this  inscription  before 
Olympiad  75  (B.  C.  480);  Bockh  assigns  it  to  a  much  earlier  date. 
In  an}'  case,  we  may  regard  this  as  the  oldest   extant   treaty  in 


INSCRIPTIONS.  871 

the  Greek  language.     It  must  have  been  originally  fixed  on  the 
wall  of  some  temple  at  Olympia. 

A  series  of  Athenian  records  on  marble  has  been  found  in- 
scribed on  the  wall  of  the  Parthenon,  while  others  have  been 
put  together  out  of  many  fragments  extracted  from  the  ruins  on 
the  Acropolis  and  from  excavations  at  Athens.  Of  the  public 
records  preserved  in  these  inscriptions,  the  following  are  the 
most  important  classes:  the  tribute  lists,  the  treasure  lists,  and 
the  public  accounts. 

An  interesting  inscription  has  been  lately  brought  to  light 
in  the  diggings  on  the  Athenian  Acropolis.  It  is  the  treaty-stone 
between  Athens  and  Chalcis.  The  inscription  is  of  the  days  of 
Pericles,  and  records  the  terms  on  which  Chalcis  in  Euboea  was 
again  received  as  an  Athenian  dependency  or  subject  ally  after 
its  revolt  and  recovery  in  B.  C.  445.  The  event  is  recorded  in 
Thucydides.  The  inscription  is  in  Attic  Greek,  but  the  spelling 
is  archaic. 

Funeral  monuments  usually  bear  an  inscription  which  gives 
the  names  and  titles  of  the  deceased,  his  country,  his  age,  the 
names  of  his  father  and  of  his  mother,  his  titles  and  his  services, 
his  distinguished  qualities  and  his  virtues.  Frequently  a 
funereal  inscription  contains  only  the  names  of  the  deceased, 
that  of  his  country,  and  acclamations  and  votive  formulae  gener- 
ally terminate  it. 

The  Sigean  marble  is  one  of  the  most  celebrated  palseo- 
graphical  monuments  in  existence.  It  is  written  in  the  most 
ancient  Greek  characters,  and  in  the  Boustrophedon  manner. 
The  purport  of  the  inscription,  which  in  sense  is  twice  repeated, 
on  the  upper  and  lower  part  of  the  stone,  is  to  record  the  presen- 
tation of  three  vessels  for  the  use  of  the  Prytaneum,  or  Town 
Hall  of  the  Sigeans.  The  upper  and  lower  inscriptions,  in  com- 
mon letters,  read  thus: 

The  first   inscription   is  thus  translated :     "  I  am  the  gift  of 


872  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

Phanodicus,  the  son  of  Hermocrates,  of  Proconnesus;  he  gave  a 
vase  (a  crater),  a  stand  or  support  for  it,  and  a  strainer,  to  the 
Sigeans  for  the  Prytaneum."  The  second,  which  says,  "  I  also 
am  the  gift  of  Phanodicus,"  repeating  the  substance  of  the 
former  inscription,  adds,  "  if  any  mischance  happens  to  me,  the 
Sigeans  are  to  mend  me.  ^sop  and  his  brethren  made  me.'^ 
The  lower  inscription  is  the  more  ancient.  It  is  now  nearly 
obliterated.  Kirchhoff  considers  it  to  be  not  later  than  Olym- 
piad 69  B.  C.  (504-500). 

The  Athenian  People  erects  this  Statue  of  Socrates^  the  Son  of 
Socrates  of  Thoricus. 

*'The  Sons  of  Athens,  Socrates,  from  thee 
Imbibed  the  lessons  of  the  Muse  divine; 
Hence  this  thy  meed  of  wisdom:  prompt  are  we 
To  render  grace  for  grace,  our  love  for  thine." 

'Wordsvjorth'' s  Athens. 

To  Perpenna  the  Roman, 
of  Consular  dignity,  the  Senate  and  People  of  Syracuse. 

A  man  by  whose  wise  counsels  this  city  of  S3Tacuse  hath 
breathed  from  its  labors,  and  seen  the  hour  of  repose.  For 
these  services  the  best  of  its  citizens  hav^e  erected  to  him  an 
image  of  marble,  but  they  preserve  that  of  his  wisdom  in  their 
breasts. 

Museum  of  Syracuse. 
On  a  Gatezvay  at  Niccea  (  Translation^ : 

"  The  very  splendid,  and  large,  and  good  city  of  the  Nic3e- 
ans  [erects]  this  wall  for  the  autocrat  Caesar  Marcus  Aurelius 
Claudius,  the  pious,  the  fortunate,  august,  of  Tribunitial  author- 
ity, second  time  Proconsul,  father  of  his  country,  and  for  the 
Sacred  Senate,  and  the  people  of  the  Romans,  in  the  time  of  the 
illustrious  Consular  Velleius  Macrinus,  Legate  and  Lieutenant 
of  the  august  Caesar  Antoninus,  the  splendid  orator." — A.  D. 
269. 


^HE    j^ATACOJVlBp. 


The  catacombs,  or  iindcr-^roiind  cemeteries,  are  among  the 
most  stupendous  wonders  of  antiquity,  and  have  ever  since  their 
discovery  excited  the  keenest  interest  of  archaeologists. 

The  cut  on  page  875  is  a  plan  of  the  catacombs  of  Rome. 
These  alone  were  3'ears  ago  computed  to  be  590  miles  in  length, 
while  Mr.  Marchi,  in  the  light  of  more  recent  investigations  and 
new  discoveries  has  calculated  their  length  to  be  between  800 
and  900  miles,  and,  that  in  the  sepulchral  enclosures  of  their  vast 
hollows  between  6,000,000  and  7,000,000  of  the  human  race 
have  been  entombed.  Most  of  the  catacombs  are  situated 
from  fifty  to  seventy- five  feet  below  the  surface  of  the  earth,  not 
a  ray  of  natural  light  can  penetrate  the  dense  blackness  of  night 
Avhich  everywhere  abounds.  Woe  to  the  man  whose  boldness 
leads  him  to  venture  alone  into  these  dark  depths!  So  extensive 
and  so  intricate  are  the  corridors  and  passages  that  he  must  be 
irrevocably  lost  and  miserably  perish  in  this  endless  labyrinth. 
Even  the  most  experienced  guides,  with  burning  torches  in  hand, 
would  rather  follow  only  thoroughly  explored  passages,  and  care 
not  to  leave  well-beaten  tracks. 

The  passages  are  from  six  to  twelve  feet  high  and  have  an 
Average  width  of  from  three  to  six  feet.  In  the  tufa  rock  of 
which  their   walls   are   composed  niches   are   hollowed   out,  one 

873 


874 


TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 


above  the  other,  in  which  the  dead  were  laid,  from  three  to  six 
persons  having  been  placed  on  each  side.  All  the  passages  and 
galleries  have  these  ghastly  linings,  and  most  of  them  end  their 
long  and  dreary  course  in  a  chamber,  as  the  reader  may  observe 
on  examining  the  cuts  below. 

These  chambers  are  often  of  large  dimensions,  and  were 
originally  adorned  with  great  splendor  and  high  art.  They 
were  the  tombs  of  wealthy  and  noble  families,  who  spared  neither 
labor  nor   money  in   beautifying  their   final   habitations.      The 

walls    and    ceilino^s    were 
Scv^  r^   /  /  r--^^  exquisitely  sculptured  and 

painted  by  the  most  gifted 
artists  of  the  age.  Sar- 
cophagi or  coffins  of 
bronze,  of  porphyry  and 
and  other  rare  marbles 
contained  the  bodies  of 
the  dead.  On  their  mas- 
sive lids  and  sides  were 
carved  the  forms  and  features  of  those  lying  within,  so  that  even 
to-day  we  are  in  possession  of  fine  and  accurate  portraits  of 
ancient  people.  Around  the  sarcophagi  were  placed  rich  vases 
of  gold,  drinking  cups  of  silver,  and  many  other  valuable  treas- 
ures dear  to  the  departed  when  alive.  Statues  of  bronze  and 
marble  were  ranged  about  in  lavish  array  and  gleamed  under 
the  soft  light  which  fell  from  quaint  lamps  of  precious  metals, 
curious  in  shape  and  wrought  with  elaborate  skill. 

In  the  Roman  Campagna  there  were  forty-three  catacombs, 
whose  names  are  recorded  in  inscriptions,  in  martyrologies,  and 
in  the  Pontifical  Registers  used  b}'  Anastasius,  since  republished, 
with  additions,  in  various  forms,  and  repeated  in  substance  by 
Baronius  in  his  Annals,  and  Panvinius  in  his  treatise  on  the  Cem- 
eteries.    Aringhi  reckons   on  the  number  at  fifty-six,  and  from 


SECTIONS  OP  CATACOMBS  WITH   CHAMBERS. 


tSyO  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS 

the  account  of  Signor  de  Rossi  it  appears  that  the  number  is 
now  reckoned  at  about  sixty.  The  number  of  general  cemeter- 
ies is  not  so  large. 

The  original  entrances  to  the  catacombs  were  in  many  in- 
stances by  subterranean  roads  or  corridors,  sometimes  called 
streets.  These  corridors,  which  served  as  entrances  to  and  pas- 
sages in  the  burial-places,  were  originally  old  sand-pit  roads, 
from  which  the  Pozzolana  sand  had  been  extracted;  when  this 
bed  of  sand  is  extracted,  the  entrance  is  usually  closed.  The 
soft  bed  of  Pozzolana  sand  was,  however,  not  generally  used  for 
interments,  but  the  harder  bed  under  it,  called  "tufa  granulare." 
The  different  horizontal  layers  or  beds  of  tufa  vary  very  much 
in  hardness  and  also  in  thickness. 

Although  these  catacombs  may  not  be  the  finest  cemeteries, 
yet  the  use  of  these  would  be  infinitely  preferable  to  the  recent 
Roman  practice  of  throwing  the  bodies  of  all  persons,  whose 
families  can  not  afford  to  buy  a  piece  of  land  in  perpetuity,  into 
a  pit,  in  the  same  manner  as  the  ancient  Romans  did  the  bodies 
of  their  slaves. 

There  are  three  hundred  aud  eighty  pits  provided  in  the 
burial  ground  of  S.  Lorenzo,  one  of  which  was  opened  every 
night.  All  the  bodies  brought  for  interment  that  day  or  night 
were  thrown  into  it,  after  being  first  stripped  to  the  skin  by  the 
officials;  and  then  hot  lime  was  thrown  upon  them,  that  they 
might  be  thoroughly  decayed  before  the  year  came  round.  The 
mouth  of  the  pit  was  closed  with  lime  grouting,  so  that  no 
effluvium  could  escape,  and  this  covering  was  not  broken  until 
the  pit  was  wanted  to  be  used  again. 

These  corridors  or  passages  of  the  sand-pits  from  which  the 
Pozzolana  sand  had  been  excavated  are  large  enough  to  admit  a 
horse  and  cart;  these  were  frequently  the  entrances  to  the  cata- 
combs, the  corridors  of  which  are  usually  b}'  the  side  of  or  under 
those  of  the    arenarice,  or   sand-pits,   and  are    onlv   just  large 


INSCRIPTIONS.  877 

enough  for  a  man,  or  two  men  witli  a  body,  to  pass  along;  the 
height  varies  from  live  to  seven  or  eight  feet,  or  more,  aeeording 
to  the  thickness  of  the  bed  of  tufa.  In  the  catacomb  of  S. 
Hermes,  part  of  the  wide  sand-pit  road  has  been  reduced  to  one- 
third  of  its  width,  by  building  up  brick  walls  on  each  side  with 
loculi  in  them. 

There  is  in  general,  at  present,  no  communication  between 
one  catacomb  and  another;  each  occupies  a  separate  hill  or  ris- 
ing ground  in  the  Campagna,  and  is  separated  from  the  others 
by  the  intervening  valleys.  When  the  first  tier  of  tombs  ex- 
tended to  the  edges  of  the  hill,  a  second  was  made  under  it,  and 
then  sometimes  a  third,  or  more.  The  manner  in  which  the 
rock  is  excavated  in  a  number  of  corridors  twisting  in  all  direc- 
tions, in  order  to  make  room  tor  the  largest  possible  number  of 
bodies,  is  thus  accounted  for.  The  plan  of  the  catacomb  of  S. 
Priscilla  is  a  good  illustration  of  this.  It  would  have  been 
hardly  safe  to  have  excavated  the  rock  to  any  greater  extent. 
The  lowest  corridors  are  tVequently  below  the  level  ol'  the  val- 
leys, and  there  may  have  been  originall}'  passages  from  one  to 
the  other,  so  that  one  entrance  to  S.  Calixtus  may  have  been 
through  S.  Sebastian''s.  The  peculiarly  dry  and  drying  nature 
of  the  sandstone,  or  tuta  rock,  in  which  these  tombs  are  exca- 
vated, made  them  admirably  calculated  for  the  purpose.  These 
catacombs  were  the  public  cemeteries  of  Christian  Rome  tor 
several  centuries,  and  it  would  have  been  well  for  the  health  of 
the  city  if  they  could  always  have  continued  so.  Unfortunately 
after  the  siege  of  Rome  by  the  Goths,  in  the  time  of  Justinian, 
when  some  of  the  catacombs  were  rifled  of  their  contents,  the 
use  of  these  excellent  bur3nng  places  was  discontinued. 

That  the  arenaria  were  considered  as  burying  places  in  the 
time  of  Nero  is  evident  from  his  exclamations  of  horror  at  the 
idea  of  being  taken  there  alive  for  the  purpose  of  concealment. 
The  sand-pits  are   also  mentioned   by  Cicero   in   his   Oration   for 


878 


TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 


Cluentius,  where  he  says  that  the  young  Asinius,  a   citizen  of 
noble  family,  was  inveigled  into  one  of  them  and  murdered. 

This  shows  they  were  in  use   before  the  Christian   era,  and 
there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  they  have  been  in  use  ever 

since   1  i  m  e- 


mortar  came 
into  use,  which 
is  believed  to 
have  been  many 
centuries  before 


~<l^\v^|"*^95'*^_ 


STONE  COFFIN. 


that  period.  The  celebrated  Pozzolana  sand  makes  the  best 
mortar  in  the  world,  from  its  gritty  nature.  This  valuable  sand 
is  found  to  any  extent  nearly  all  over  the  Campagna  of  Rome, 
in  horizontal  beds  or  layers  between  the  beds  of  tufa;  some  of 
the  tufa  itself,  which  is  sandstone,  may  be  scraped  into  this  sand, 
but  it  is  easier  to  take  it  as  ready  provided  by  nature.  People 
once  accustomed  to  the  use  of  this  sand  can  not  do  without  it, 
and  hundreds  of  carts  tilled  with  it  may  be  seen  dail}'  traversing 
the  Campagna,  conveying  it  either  to  Rome,  or  to  Ostia,  or  to 
Porto,  for  exportation.  The  horizontal  layers  or  beds  of  this 
sand  are  not  usually  more  than  six  feet  thick,  although  they  ex- 
tend at  a  certain  level  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  countr}-.  It 
is  therefore  excavated  in  horizontal  corridors,  with  \'arious 
branches,  extending  for  many  miles,  undermining  the  whole  sur- 
face of  the  soil,  but  not  in  large  or  deep  pits,  so  that  the  name 
of  sand-pit  is  rather  deceitful  to  American  people,  who  com- 
monly imagine  it  to  be  always  a  large  and  deep  pit  to  which 
these  roads  lead  only;  this  is  not  always  the  case,  the  roads  them- 
selves being  excavated  in  the  layer  of  sand,  and  frequentl}'  them- 
selves the  sand-pits.  Sometimes  there  are  different  la3'ers  ot 
sand  at  different  levels,  and  in  some  cases  there  may  be  two 
sand-pit  roads  one  over  the  other,  with  the  bed  of  hard  tufa  be- 
tween them. 


INSCRIPTIONS. 


879 


STONE  COFFIN  WITH  OPEN   SIDE. 


We  are  told  in  the  Ada  Sanctorum  that  one  of  the  punish- 
ments inflicted  on  the  Cliristians  by  the  Emperor  Maximinus  in 
the  sixth  persecution,  A.  D.  35,  was  digging  sand  and  stone. 
The  martyrs,  Ciriacus  and  Sisinnus  are  especially  mentioned  as 
ordered  to  be  strictly  guarded,  and  compelled  to  dig  sand  and  to 
carry  it  on  their  own  shoulders. 

Some  of  the  catacombs  were  evidently  made  under  tombs 
by  the  side  of  the  road,  and  in  that  of  S.  Calixtus  there  are  re- 
mains of  the  tomb 
on  the  surface  of 
the  ground.  The 
burial-chapels  of  the 
fourth  centur}'  com- 
monly found  over  a 
catacomb  probably  replace  earlier  tombs.  The  church  of  S. 
Urban  is  now  considered  to  have  been  a  family  tomb  of  the  first 
century,  made  into  a  church  long  afterwards. 

Many  inscriptions  are  preserved  relating  to  the  preservation 
of  a  tomb  with  the  land  belonging  to  it  in  perpetuity,  and  they 
frequentl}^  mention  the  number  of  feet  along  the  road  and  in  the 
field.  Their  size  varies  enormously.  Horace  mentions  one  that 
was  1,000  feet  by  300  feet.  The  inscription  of  one  dug  up  in  the 
Via  Labicana  gives  1,800  feet  by  500  feet;  another  was  only 
twenty-four  feet  by  fifteen  feet,  and  another  sixteen  feet  square. 
In  the  case  of  one  of  the  larger  tombs  belonging  to  a  family  that 
became  Christian,  it  was  easy  for  them  to  make  a  catacomb 
under  it  and  allow  their  fellow-Christians  to  be  buried  there,  or 
to  sell  portions  of  the  large  space  for  separate  vaults.  Many 
vaults  of  sixteen  feet  square  might  be  made  in  the  space  of  1,800 
feet  long  by  500  feet  wide,  as  the  one  on  the  Via  Labicana.  If 
the  adjoining  field  belonged  to  the  same  family,  the  catacomb 
might  be  extended  as  far  as  the  family  property  itself  extended. 
This  is  the  most  probable   explanation  of  the  prcedmin  of  the 


88o  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

Lady  Lucina  and  other  Christian  martyrs.  They  were  heiresses 
to  whom  such  a  tomb  and  meadow  belonged.  When  the  space 
was  Hmited,  three  or  four  stories  were  excavated  in  succession,- 
one  under  the  other,  as  we  see  in  many  instances. 

The  measurements  of  Michele  de  Rossi  coincide  with  this 
in  a  remarkable  manner.  He  tinds  the  area  of  each  separate 
catacomb  to  be  respectively  loo,  125,  150,  180  and  250  feet. 
None  of  these  spaces  are  at  all  too  large  for  the  area  commonly 
left  round  a  tomb  of  importance,  and  the  family  property  of 
this  area  would  extend  to  an}'  depth.  Each  cemetery  was  com- 
plete in  itself,  but  sometimes  connected  with  others  by  subter- 
ranean roads. 

These  tombs  were  protected  by  special  laws,  and  the  area 
in  which  the  tomb  stood  was  included  with  it.  The  area  was 
often  of  considerable  extent,  and  was  intended  for  the  burial- 
place  of  succeeding  generations  of  the  family  to  whom  it  be- 
longed. The  tombs  of  the  period  of  the  early  empire  were  by 
no  means  exclusively  for  the  columbaria  for  cinerary  urns.  The 
instances  in  which  there  are  both  places  for  bodies  and  urns  are 
perhaps  more  numerous  than  those  for  urns  only.  The  fine 
sarcophagi  now  found  in  museums,  or  applied  to  all  sorts  of  uses, 
as  water-troughs,  vases  for  flowers,  and  various  other  purposes, 
were  all  originally  in  tombs,  and  generally  in  tombs  in  which 
there  were  also  columbaria  for  cinerary  urns.  Some  Pagan, 
tombs  on  the  Via  Latina  have  catacombs  for  the  interment  of 
bodies  under  them,  and  often  bodies  were  put  in  them. 

The  custom  of  burning  the  bodies  was  never  universal,  and 
lasted  only  for  a  certain  period;  the  custom  of  burying  bodies 
came  in  again  soon  after  the  Christian  era,  and  probabl}'  was 
influenced  by  the  strong  feeling  which  sprung  up  among  the 
Christians  on  this  subject.  The  sumptuous  painted  chambers  in 
the  upper  part  of  the  tombs  of  the  first  and  second  centuries  on- 
the  Via   Latina  were  evidently  imitated  b}'  the  poor  in  the  cata- 


882  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

combs  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  and  later;  but  there  is  no 
evidence  of  any  Scriptural  or  religious  subjects  for  paintings  be- 
fore the  time  of  Constantine.  The  character  of  the  paintings  is 
almost  universally  later,  and  the  few  that  are  early  are  not  Chris- 
tian nor  Scriptural. 

It  might  very  well  happen  that  some  members  of  the  family 
were  Christians  and  others  were  not,  and  this  would  account  for 
the  mixture  of  Pagan  tombs  with  Christian  ones  in  the  same 
catacombs.  The  subterranean  sand-pit  roads  frequently  run 
parallel  to  the  high  roads  at  a  little  distance  from  them,  and  such 
a  road  passing  at  the  back  of  the  subterranean  cemetr}'  or  cata- 
comb would  be  very  convenient  to  Christians  in  time  of 
persecution.  The  part  of  these  roads  which  came  within  the 
limits  of  the  cemetery  would  naturally  be  used  for  burial  places, 
also,  as  we  see  that  they  were  distinctly  in  the  case  of  S.  Hermes, 
and  nearly  with  equal  certainty  in  other  cases.  In  ordinary 
times,  there  was  no  necessity  for  secrecy.  The  bodies  of  Chris- 
tian martyrs  were  given  up  for  the  purpose  of  burial  to  those 
who  applied  for  them. 

The  catacombs  of  SS.  Saturnius  and  Thraso,  the  entrance 
to  which  is  in  the  gardens  of  the  Villa  Gangalani,  about  a 
mile  from  Rome,  on  the  Via  Salaria,  are  stated  to  have  formed 
part  of  the  great  catacomb  of  S.  Priscilla,  the  entrance  to  which 
is  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  farther  from  Rome,  on  the  same 
road.  On  descending  into  that  of  S.  Saturninus  by  a  steep  flight 
of  steps  of  modern  appearance,  but  perhaps  restored  only,  we 
soon  pass  under  the  road  and  hear  carriages  passing  overhead; 
we  then  continue  to  descend  to  the  depth  of  about  fifty  feet, 
divided  into  five  corridors,  only  foin-  of  which  can  at  present  be 
seen;  but  we  pass  the  entrance  to  the  fifth  on  one  of  the  stair- 
cases, and  see  the  opening  to  it.  The  two  lower  corridors  of  this 
catacomb  have  tombs  or  cuhicida  on  the  sides;  a  few  of  these 
are  painted,  and  the  vault  of  the  corridor  in  front  of  them,  also. 


CATACOMBS.  883 

The  sandstone  in  which  this  catacomb  is  made  is  more  than 
usually  hard,  for  which  reason  apparently  there  are  only  three  of 
the  side  chapels  for  family  burying  places,  and  few  of  the  arched 
tombs;  most  of  the  recesses  for  graves  are  merely  parallelograms 
just  large  enough  to  contain  the  body,  or   two   bodies   side   by 
side,  one  behind  the  other,  the  recess  being  excavated  to  a  suffi- 
cient depth  for  that  purpose,  and  some  of  these  have  the   slabs 
covering  the  openings   left   in   their   places.     The   skeletons  are 
allowed  to  remain  in   several   of  the   tombs  where  the  slab  has 
been  removed  and  left  open.     One  of  the  chapels  has  remains  of 
paintings  of  the  fourth  century  in  a   very  decayed   state.      The 
other  two  chapels  are  connected  by  a  short   passage;  they  have 
evidently  been  family  burying  places,  a  second  added  when  the 
first  was  full.     The  passage  is  made  through  the  principal   tomb 
of  the  first  chapel,  the  body  previously  interred  there  was  prob- 
ably removed   to  the   inner  chapel  when   that  was   made.      The 
painted  chapel  is  in  the  upper  corridor,  the  double  one  in  the  lowest. 
In  descending   from   the   garden,    the   two   upper  corridors 
have  tombs  on  the  sides,  and  are  regular  catacombs;  the  third  is 
an  arenariiim^  or  sand-pit,  without  tombs,  and  large  enough  for 
a  horse   and   cart  to  pass    along,   as   in   the  ordinary   sand-pits. 
There  must  have  been  another  entrance  to  this,  and  it  is  said  to 
have  been   half  a  mile  oflT,  which   is  not   improbable,  judging  by 
other  sand-pits,  both  those  now  in  use  and  others  that  are  closed, 
some  of  which  are  known  to  be  more  than  a  mile  long,  and  with 
the   different   branch  galleries,  the  corridors  altogether  often  ex- 
tend several  miles.      These  galleries  are  large  and  wide  enough 
for  a  horse  and  cart,  but  not  for  two  to  pass,  sidings  being  made 
at  intervals  for  that   purpose.     The   passages   in  the  catacombs 
vary  much  both   in   height   and   in  width,  but   are   seldom   more 
than  three  feet  wide.     The  chapels  also  vary  in  size,  but  none  of 
them  would  hold  more   than  fifty  people;  those  in  the  present 
catacomb  are  small. 


884 


TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 


That  each  of  these  chapels  was  the  burial-place  of  a  famil}', 
and  was  considered  as  private  property,  is  evident  from  the  re- 
mains of  a  door  at  the  entrance  of  several  of  them,  as  in  the 
catacomb  of  S.  Priscilk.  In  one  of  these,  the  stone  corbel,  with 
the  hole  for  the  pivot  to  work  in,  remains  in  its  place;  the  lower 
stone,  with  the  corresponding  hole,  has  been  moved,  but  is  lying 

on  the  floor  in  an  adjoining  chapel. 
Another  door  has  been  made  to 
slide  up  and  down  Hke  a  portcullis 
or  a  modern  sash-window,  as  we 
see  by  the  groove  remaining  on 
both  sides.  This  is  close  to  a 
luniinaria^  or  well  for  admitting 
light  and  air,  and  it  seems  quite 
possible  that  it  really  was  a  window, 
or  that  the  upper  part  was  made  to 
slide  down  to  admit  the  light  and 
air  from  the  lumhiaria.  If  this 
was  the  burial-place  of  Priscilla,  the 
paintings  were  probably  renewed  in 
the  restoration  by  John  I.,  A.  D.  523.  The  lower  part  of  the 
wall  is  faced  with  stucco  paneled  with  oblong  panels,  colored  in 
imitation  of  different  kinds  of  marble;  the  stucco  is  about  an 
inch  thick,  like  slabs  of  marble,  and  the  divisions  between  the 
panels  are  sunk  to  that  depth,  as  if  each  panel  had  been  painted 
before  it  was  placed  and  fixed  to  the  walls  like  marble  slabs. 
There  are  some  long  narrow  slips  of  white  stucco  lying  about, 
which  seem  to  have  been  fitted  into  the  hollow  grooves  between 
the  slabs.  The  vaults  in  this  catacomb  are  in  many  parts  sup- 
ported b}'  brick  arches;  in  one  place,  at  a  crossing,  are  four  small 
low  brick  arches,  the  character  of  which  agrees  with  the  period 
of  the  restoration  in  the  sixth  century;  the  mortar  between  the 
bricks  or  tiles  is  about  the  same  thickness  as  the  tiles  themselves, 


LAMPS  FOUND  IN  THE  (JATACOMBS. 


CATACOMBS.  885 

which  are  rather  more  than  an  inch  thick,  so  that  there  are  five 
tiles  to  a  loot,  including  the  mortar  between  them.  These  brick 
arches  are  not  subsequent  repairs,  but  part  of  the  original  con- 
struction to  carry  the  vault.  The  arenariiim^  or  sand-pit  gallery, 
through  which  the  present  entrance  is  made,  has  evidently  been 
used  as  a  subterranean  road.  A  branch  of  an  aqueduct  running 
along  the  side  of  this  is  part  of  an  extensive  system  of  irriga- 
tion carried  on  throughout  all  this  district,  the  water  having  been 
brought  from  the  Aqua  Virgo,  which  passed  in  this  direction. 
It  was  probably  part  of  the  original  line  of  the  Aqueduct,  which 
has  been  altered  in  the  portion  near  to  Rome;  this  has  not  been 
traced  out  to  any  considerable  extent,  but  Signor  de  Rossi  has 
found  man}'  remains  and  indications  of  it.  The  sand-pit  roads, 
or  arenaria^  ran  for  miles  parallel  to  the  high  roads,  and  were 
probably  used  by  the  carters  in  preference  to  the  open  roads  in 
hot  weather,  as  they  are  always  cool. 

Christian  htscriptions  are  all  funereal,  and  are  for  the  most 
part  found  in  the  catacombs,  or  subterranean  cemeteries.  The 
word  cemetery  is  derived  from  a  Greek  word,  meaning  "a  sleep- 
ing place,"  hence  the  frequent  formulae  in  the  Christian  epitaphs, 
"  dormit  in  pace,"  he  sleeps  in  peace;  "  dormitio  Elpidis,"  the 
sleeping  place  of  Elpis;  "  cubiculum  Aurclise,"  the  sleeping 
chamber  of  Aurelia.  The  term  catacomb  was  applied  to  these 
subterranean  cemeteries  at  a  much  later  period.  The  practice 
of  subterranean  burial  among  the  early  Christians  was  evidently 
derived  from  the  Jewish  custom  of  burying  the  dead  in  excavated 
sepulchres,  and  thus  may  have  been  adopted  by  the  earl}'  Jewish 
converts.  The  Roman  Jews  had  a  very  early  catacomb  of  their 
own,  in  the  Monte  Verde,  contiguous  to  their  place  of  abode,  in 
the  Trasteverine  quarter  of  Rome.  This  subterranean  mode  of 
sepulture  is  undoubtedly  of  Egyptian  origin.  It  is  generally  sup- 
posed that  the  early  Christians  used  for  their  burial  places  the 
excavations  made  by  the  Romans  for  procuring  stone  and  cement 


886  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

for  building  purposes.  This  is  an  erroneous  view.  Recent  geo- 
loo^ical  observations  on  the  soil  of  the  Agro  Romano  have  shown 
that  the  surface  of  the  Campagna  consists  of  volcanic  rocks  of 
different  natures  and  ages.  The  earliest  of  the  series,  the  tufa 
lithoide,  was  constantly  employed  from  the  earliest  ages  in  the 
buildings  of  the  city,  as  attested  by  the  massive  blocks  of  the 
Cloaca  Maxima,  the  tabularium  of  the  Capitol,  and  the  walls  of 
Romulus ;  the  second,  or  tufa  granolare,  which  though  it  has  just 
consistency  enough  to  retain  the  form  given  to  it  by  the  excava- 
tor, can  not  be  hewn  or  extracted  in  blocks;  and  the  pozzolana, 
which  has  been  extensively  used  in  all  ages  for  mortar  or  Roman 
cement.  The  tufa  lithoide  and  the  pozzolana  were  thus  alone 
used  for  building  purposes  by  the  Romans,  and  the  catacombs 
are  never  found  excavated  in  these.  The  catacombs  were  hewn 
only  in  the  tufa  granolare,  and  were  consequently  excavated  ex- 
pressly for  burials  by  the  early  Christians.  The  Christian  archi- 
tects carefully  avoided  the  massive  strata  of  the  tufa  lithoide, 
and  we  believe  it  is  ascertained  that  all  the  known  catacombs 
are  driven  exclusively  along  the  courses  of  the  tufa  granolare. 
With  equal  care  these  subterranean  engineers  avoided  the  layers 
of  pozzolana,  which  would  have  rendered  their  work  insecure, 
and  in  which  no  permanent  rock  tomb  could  have  been  con- 
structed. Thus  we  arrive  at  the  curious  fact,  that  in  making  the 
catacombs  the  excavators  carefully  avoided  the  strata  of  hard 
stone  and  the  strata  of  soft  stone,  used  respectively  for  building 
and  for  mortar,  and  selected  that  course  of  medium  hardness 
which-  was  best  adapted  to  their  peculiar  purpose.  The  early 
Christian  tomb  inscriptions  are  characterized  by  symbols  and 
formulae  peculiar  to  the  Christian  creed;  the  idea  of  another  life, 
a  life  beyond  the  grave,  usually  prevails  in  them. 

The  symbols  found  in  connection  with  the  funereal  inscrip- 
tions arc  ot  three  kinds;  the  larger  proportion  of  these  refer  to 
the  profession  of  Christianity,  its   doctrines  and   its  graces.     A 


CHRISTIAN    INSCRIPTIONS.  887 

second  class,  of  a  partly  secular  desciiption,  only  indicate  the 
trades  of  the  deceased,  and  the  remainder  represent  proper 
names:  thus  a  lion  must  be  read  as  a  proper  name,  Leo',  an  ass, 
Onager;  a  dragon,  Dracontius.  Of  the  first  kind  the  most 
usually  met  with  is  the  monogram  of  Christ.  The  other  symbols 
generally  in  use  are  the  ship,  the  emblem  of  the  church;  the 
fish,  the  emblem  of  Christ,  the  palm,  the  s3'mbol  of  martyr- 
dom. The  anchor  represented  hope  in  immortality;  the  dove, 
peace;  the  stag  reminded  the  faithful  of  the  pious  aspiration  of 
the  Psalmist;  the  horse  was  the  emblem  of  strength  in  the  faith; 
the  hunted  hare,  of  persecution;  the  peacock  and  the  phoenix 
stood  for  signs  of  the  resurrection.  Christ,  as  the  good  pastor, 
was  also  introduced  in  the  epitaph.  Even  personages  of  the 
Pagan  m3'thology  were  introduced,  which  the  Christians  em- 
ployed in  a  concealed  sense,  as  Orpheus,  enchanting  the  wild 
beasts  with  the  music  (see  page  701)  of  his  lyre,  was  the  secret 
symbol  of  Christ  as  the  civilizer  of  men  leading  all  nations  to 
the  faith.  Ulysses,  fastened  to  the  mast  of  his  ship,  was  sup- 
posed to  present  some  faint  resemblance  to  the  crucifixion. 

In  classifying  the  Roman  inscriptions,  M.  de  Rossi  has 
adopted  the  following  divisions.  The  first  comprises  those  in- 
scriptions only  which  contain  some  express  note  of  time,  and  are 
therefore  susceptible  of  exact  chronological  arrangement.  The 
second  comprises  the  select  inscriptions,  viz. :  first,  sacred  and 
historical  ones,  and  next  those  which,  either  by  testimony,  by 
forms,  or  by  symbols,  illustrate  the  doctrines,  the  worship,  or  the 
morals  of  the  Christians.  The  third,  the  purely  topographical, 
assigns  each  inscription  its  proper  place  among  the  ancient 
localities  of  Rome.  This  comprises  also  inscriptions  of  unknown 
or  uncertain  locality,  as  well  as  inscriptions  of  spurious  origin  or 
doubtful  authenticity. 

In  considering-  the  chronoloo:ical  arrano-ements  of  Christian 
inscriptions,  it  is  important   to  keep   in  view  that  in   the  earlier 


888  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

centuries  the  Chiristians  kept  note  of  time  either  by  the  years  of 
the  bishop,  or  by  some  of  the  civil  forms  which  prevailed  in  the 
various  countries  in  which  they  resided.  In  Rome  the  common 
date  was  tl, at  of  the  consular  year.  The  common  use  of  the 
Christian  era  as  a  note  of  time  began,  as  is  well  known,  later 
than  the  sixth  century,  at  which  M.  de  Rossi's  series  terminates. 
In  M.  de  Rossi's  collection  one  inscription  bears  date  from  the 
year  A.  D.  107,  and  another  from  iii.  Of  the  period  from  the 
year  204,  in  which  the  next  inscription  with  a  date  occurs,  till  the 
peace  of  the  church  in  312,  twenty-eight  dated  inscriptions  have 
been  found;  after  the  peace  of  the  church  the  number  of  dated 
inscriptions  increases  rapidly.  Between  the  accession  of  Con- 
stantine  and  the  close  of  the  fourth  century,  his  collection  con- 
tains 450  dated  inscriptions,  and  the  fifth  century  presents  about 
the  same  number;  but  in  the  sixth,  the  number  again  declines, 
that  century  producing  little  more  than  200. 

In  those  cases  where  no  note  of  time  is  marked,  M.  de 
Rossi  has  availed  himself  of  other  chronological  indications  and 
tests,  founded  on  the  language,  on  the  style,  on  the  names,  and 
on  the  material  execution  of  the  inscription,  in  determining  the 
date.  Out  of  the  1 1,000  extant  Roman  inscriptions  anterior  to 
the  seventh  century,  M.  de  Rossi  finds  chronological  evidence  of 
the  date  of  no  fewer  than  1374. 

There  are  also  varieties  in  inflection,  such  as  "spiritu  sancta  " 
for  "spiritu  sancto,"  "  pauperorum,'' for  "pauperum,"  "  vocitus  " 
for  "  vocatus,''  "  requiescent  "  for  "  requiescunt,"  etc. 

There  are  also  new  or  unusual  terms,  or  new  familiar  words 
in  new  or  unusual  meanings,  such  as  "  pausavit,  rested,  bisomus, 
trisomus,  quadrisomus,"  holding  two,  three,  four  bodies;  compar 
and  conpar  (husband  and  wife);  fecit  for  egit^ passed ;  "percepit," 
received,  sc27.  baptism,  as  also ''consecutus  est,"  in  the  same 
sense,  etc. 

Sometimes  Latin  is  written  in  Greek  characters  and  some- 
times Greek  in  Latin. 


CHRISTIAN    INSCRIPTIONS.  889 

The    age    is   expressed    by   ''vixit,"   or    "vixit    in    sseculo, 

^'  annos  "  (or  "  annis  "    "  menses,"   "  dies  "  (or   "  diebus  ") , 

with  the  number  of  hours  sometimes  stated.  Sometimes  "  qui 
fuit ''  stands  for  ''  vixit;"  sometimes  neither  is  expressed,  and  we 
have  the  form  in  the  genitive,  "sal.  annorum,"  etc. 

Frequently  the  time  passed  in  married  life  is  mentioned,  and 
we  find  sucii  phrases  as  "  vixit  mecum,  duravit  mecum,  vixit  in 
conjugio,  fecit  mecum,  fecit  in  conjugio,  fecit  cum  compare," 
with  a  precise  statement  of  the  number  of  years,  etc.,  and  often 
with  some  expression  marking  the  happiness  of  the  couple's 
married  life. 

The  epithets  applied  to  the  deceased  indicate  strong  affec- 
tion, and  the  eulogies  are  sometimes  extravagant. 

The  occupation  or  position  in  life  is  stated,  with  the  proper 
titles,  in  many  dated  Christian  epitaphs.  But  they  are  all,  it  is 
supposed,  later  than  the  time  of  Constantine. 

The  same  designations  of  the  place  of  burial  and  of  the 
tomb  are  found  in  both  Christian  and  Pagan  epitaphs. 

Acclamations  or  expressions  of  good  wishes  or  prayers  to  or 
for  the  deceased  frequently  occur  in  the  inscriptions. 

The  letters  also  of  these  inscriptions  are  usuallv  very  irregu- 
lar. They  are  from  half  an  inch  to  four  inches  in  height,  colored 
in  the  incision  with  a  pigment  resembling  Venetian  red.  The 
sense,  too,  of  the  inscriptions  is  not  always  ver}'  obvious.  An 
extreme  simplicity  of  language  and  sentiment  is  the  prevailing 
characteristic  of  the  earlier  inscriptions.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
exaggerated  examples  of  the  opposite  style  are  occasionally  met 
with. 

Another  peculiarity  in  these  Christian  inscriptions  is  the 
disuse  of  the  three  names  usually  assumed  by  the  Romans.  M. 
de  Rossi  has  given  twenty  inscriptions  with  the  names  complete, 
prior  to  Constantine.  Of  these,  no  fewer  than  seventeen  have 
praenomina,  whereas  after  Constantine  prsenomina  may  be  said 
entirely  to  disappear. 


890  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

The  year  is  usually  indicated  by  the  names  of  the  consuls. 
The  abbreviation  COS  for  "  consulibus  "  was  in  use  up  to  the 
middle  of  the  third  century,  when  COSS,  CONS,  and  CONSS 
began  to  be  adopted;  COS  is  very  seldom  found  during  the 
fourth  century,  and  almost  never  in  the  fifth  or  sixth;  COSS  fell 
into  disuse  about  the  first  quarter  of  the  fifth  centur}-,  and  after 
that  CONS  was  used;  in  the  time  of  Diocletian  with  S  for  one 
consul  and  SS  for  two.  At  the  same  time  CC.  SS.  CS  were 
introduced,  but  they  were  very  rarely  used  in  the  fifth,  and  there 
is  scarcely  an  example  of  them  in  the  sixth.  From  about  the 
middle  of  the  fourth  century  CONS  began  to  be  placed  before  in- 
stead of  after  the  names,  and  this  usage  became  the  prevalent 
custom  in  the  fifth  and  sixth. 

At  the  date  of  the  discovery  of  the  Roman  catacombs,  the 
whole  bod}'  of  known  Christian  inscriptions  collected  from  all 
parts  of  Italy  fell  far  short  of  a  thousand  in  number.  Of  these, 
too,  not  a  single  one  was  of  subterranean  origin,  and  not  dated 
earlier  than  A.  D.  553.  At  present  the  Christian  inscriptions  of 
Rome  on  catacombs  alone,  and  anterior  to  the  sixth  century, 
considerably  exceed  11,00  They  have  been  carefully  removed 
from  the  cemeteries,  and  are  now  systematically  arranged  by  M. 
de  Rossi,  on  the  walls  of  the  Christian  museum,  recently  formed 
by  order  of  Pius  IX.,  in  the  Lateran  Palace.  A  large  number 
of  these  inscriptions  are  also  inserted  in  the  walls  of  the  Galleria 
Lapidaria  in  the  Vatican. 


EAf^LY    INSCRIPTION^. 

VG.  VESPASIANO  III  COS 

IAN  ^  A.  D.  71. 

This  fragment  has  been  received  as  a  part  of  a  Christian 
epitaph  by  Reggi,  Marini  and  de  Rossi.  It  is  the  most  ancient 
of  all  such  as  bear  dates. 


EARLY    INSCRIPTIONS.  89 1 

SERVILIA.  ANNORVM.  XIII 
PIS.  ET  BOL.  COSS. 

Servilia,  aged  thirteen,  died   in   the   eonsulate  of   Piso  and 
Bolanus.     A.  D.  iii. 


TEMPORE.  ADRIA.NI.  IMPERATORIS.  MARVIS.  ADOLESCENS  DVX. 
MILITVM.  QVI  SATIS.  VIXI  r  DVM  VITAM  PRO  CHO  CVM.  SANGVINE 
CONSVNSIT.  IN.  PACE.  TANDEM  QUIEVIT.  BENE  MERENTES  CVM. 
LACRIMIS.  ET.  METV.  POSVERVNT.  I.  D.  VI. 

"In  the  time  of  the  Emperor  Adrian,  Marius,  a  young  miH- 
tary  officer  who  had  Hved  long  enough,  when  with  blood  he  gave 
up  his  Hfe  for  Christ.  At  length  he  rested  in  peace.  The  well- 
deserving  set  up  this  with  tears  and  in  fear,  on  the  6th  before 
the  ides."     A.  D.  130. 


ALEXANDER  MORTVVS  NON   EST  SED  VIVIT  SVPER  ASTRA  ET  CORPVS 
IN  HOCTVMVLO  QVIESCIT  VITAM  EXPLEVIT  SV3  ANTONINO  IMP° 
QVIVBI  MVLTVM  BENE   FITII  ANTEVENIRE   PRAEVIDERET  PROGRATIA 
ODIVM  REDDIDIT  GENVA  ENIM  FLECTENS  VERO  DEO  SACRIFICATVRVS 
AD  SVPPLICIA  DVCITVRO  TEMPORA  INFAVSTA  QVIBVS  INTER  SACRA 
ET  VOTA  NE  IN  CAVERNIS  QVIDEM  SALVARI  POSSIMVS  QVID  MISERIVS 
VITA  SED  QVID  MISERIVS  IN  MORTE  CVM  AB  AMICIS  ETPARENTIBVS 
8EPELIRI   NEQVEANT  TANDEM   IN  COELO   CORVSCANT  PARVM  VIXIT 

QVI 
VIXIT  IV.  X.  TEM. 

"  In  Christ.  Alexander  is  not  dead,  but  lives  beyond  the 
stars,  and  his  body  rests  in  this  tomb.  He  lived  under  the  Em- 
peror Antoninus,  who,  foreseeing  that  great  benefit  would  result 
from  his  services,  returned  evil  for  good.  For,  while  on  his 
knees,  and  about  to  sacrifice  to  the  true  God,  he  was  led  away 
to  execution.  O,  sad  times!  in  which  sacred  rites  and  prayers, 
even  in  caverns,  afford  no  protection  to  us.  What  can  be  more 
wretched  than  such  a  life.'^  and  what  than  such  a  death?  when 
they  could  not   be   buried   by  their   friends   and    relations.     At 


S92  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

length  they  sparkle  in  heaven.     He  has  scarcely  lived  who  has 
lived  in  Christian  times."     A.  D.  160. 

Frotn  the  Cemetery  of  St.  Callisto. 


AVRELIA  DULCISSIMA  FILIA  QVAE 

DE.  SAECVLO  RECESSIT  VIXIT  ANN.  XV.  M.  IIII. 

SEVERO  ET  QVINTIN  COSS. 

"Aurelia;our  sweetest  daughter,  who  departed  from  the 
world.  Slie  lived  tifteen  years  and  four  months.  Severus  and 
Quintinus  being  consuls."     A.  D.  325. 


Consule  Claudio  et  Paterno,  nonis  Novembribus,  die 
Veneris,  luna  XXIV,  Leuces  filise  Severse  carissimae  posuit  et 
spiritui  sancto  tuo.  Mortua  annorum  LV  et  mensium  XI 
dierum  X. 

"  In  the  consulship  of  Claudius  and  Paternus,  on  the  nones 
of  November,  on  Friday,  the  24th  day  of  the  moon,  Leuce 
erected  (this  memorial)  to  her  very  dear  daughter,  and  to  thy 
holy  spirit.  She  (died  at  the  age)  of  fifty-live  years,  and  eleven 
months,  (and)  ten  days."     A.  D.  269. 


D.   M. 

p.  LIBERIO   VICXIT 

ANN  N.  V  MENSES  N.  Ill 

DIES  N.  VIII  R.  ANICIO 

FAVSTO  ET  VI RIO  GALLO 

COSS 


"  Publius  Liberio  lived  five  years,  three  months,  and  eight 
days.  He  retired  (from  this  world)  in  the  consulship  of  Ani- 
cius  Faustus  and  Virius  Gallus."     A.  D.  298. 


B.  M. 

CVBICVLVM.    AVRELIAE.     MARTINAE.    CASTISSIMAE  ADQVE.     PVDI. 
CISSIMAE  FEMINAE  QVE  FECIT.  IN.  COIVGIO.  ANN.  XXIII.  D.  XIIII. 
BENE  MERENTI.  QVE  VIXIT.  ANN.  XL.  M.  XI.  D.  XIII.  DEPOSITIO  EIS 
DIE.  III.  NONAS.  OCT  NEPOTIANO.  ET  FACVNDO.  CONNS.  IN  PACE- 


CHRISTIAN    INSCRIPTIONS.  893 

"  To  the  well-deserving. 
The  chamber  of  Aurelia  Martina,  m}'  wife,  most  chaste  and 
modest,  who  lived  in  wedlock  twenty-three  years  and  fourteen 
days.  To  the  well-deserving  one,  who  lived  forty  years,  eleven 
months,  and  thirteen  days.  Her  burial  was  on  the  third  nones 
of  October.  Nepotianus  and  Facundus  being  consuls."  In 
peace.     A.  D.  336. 

Galleria  Lapidarid.      Vatican. 

Another  in  Greek  characters: 

'*  Here  lies  Euterpe,  the  companion  of  the  Muses,  having 
lived  simply  and  piously,  and  irreproachably  for  fifteen  years, 
twenty-two  days,  and  three  months.  She  died  on  the  fifth  day 
before  the  calends  of  December,  in  consulship  of  our  lords,  for 
the  tenth  time,  and  for  the  third  time  (2.  e.,  in  the  Consulship  of 
Constantine,  for  the  tenth  time,  and  Julian  for  the  third  time)." 
A.  D.  360. 


ROMANO.  NEOFITO 

BENEMERENTI  QVI  VI 

XIT.  ANNOS.  VIII.  DXV. 

REQVIESCIT  IN  PACE  DN 

FL.  GRATIANO.  AVG.  II.  ET. 

PETRONIO  PROBO.  CS. 

"  To  Romanus,  the  neoph3te,  the  well-deserving,  who  lived 
eight  years,  fifteen  days.  He  rests  in  the  peace  of  the  Lord.r 
Flavius  and  Gratianus  and  Petronius  Probus  being  consuls." 


HIC  QVIESCIT  ANCILLA  DEI  QVE  DE 

SVA  OMNIO  POSSIDIT  DOMVM  ISTA 

QVEM  AMICE  DEFLEN  SOLACIVMQ  REQVIRVNT. 

PRO  HVNC  VNVM  ORA  SVBOLEM  QVEM  SVPERIS. 

TITEM  REQVISTI  ETERNA  REQVIEM  FELICITA. 

8.  CAVSA  MANBIS  IIIIX.  KALENDAS  OTOBRIS 

CVCVRBITINVS  ET  ABVMDANTIVS  HIC  SIMVL  QVIESCIT 

DD.  NN.  GRATIANO  V.  ET  TEODOSIO.  AAGG. 


894  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

Hie  quiescit  ancilla  Dei,  quae  de  suis  omnibus  possidet 
domum  istam,  quam  amiese  deflent  solaeiumque  requirunt.  Pro 
hae  una  ora  subole,  quam  superstitem  reliquisti.  yEterna  in 
requie  felieitatis  causa  manebis,  XIV.  kalendis  Octobris,  Cueur 
bitinus  et  Abumdantius  hie  simul  quieseunti.  DDNN  Gratiano 
V  et  Theodosio  Augustis  (Consulibus). 

"Here  rests  a  handmaid  of  God,  who  out  of  all  her  riches 
now  possesses  but  this  one  house,  whom  her  friends  bewail,  and 
seek  in  vain  for  consolation.  Oh  pray  for  this  one  remaining 
daughter,  whom  thou  hast  left  behind!  Thou  wilt  remain  in  the 
eternal  repose  of  happiness.  On  the  14  of  the  Calends  of  Octo- 
ber. Curcurbitinus  and  Abumdantius  rest  here  together.  In 
the  consulship  of  our  Lords  Gratian  (V.)  and  Theodosius  Em- 
perors."    A.  D.  380. 


HIC  POSITA  EST  ANIMA  DVLCES 
INNOCA  SAPIENS  ET  PVLCHRA  NOMINE 
QUIRIACE  QVE  VIXIT.  ANNOS.  III.  M  III.  DVIII. 
DP  IN  PACE  nil.  ID.  IAN.  CONSS.  DN.  TEVDOSIO. 
AVG.  II  ET  MEROBAVDE.  VC.  III. 

Hie  posita  est  anima  dulces  (dulcis)  innoca  (innocua), 
sapiens  et  pulchra,  nomine  Quiriace,  quae  vixit  annos  III.,  menses 
III.,  dies  VIII.  Deposita  in  pace,  IV.  Idus  Januarias,  Consulibus 
Domino  nostro  Teudosio  (Theodoric)  Augusto  II.  et  Merobaude 
Vire  Clarissimo  III. 

"  Here  has  been  laid  a  sweet  spirit,  guileless,  wise  and  beau- 
tiful, by  name  Quiriace,  who  lived  three  3''ears,  three  months, 
and  eight  days.  Buried  in  peace,  in  the  fourth  day  before  the 
Ides  of  January,  in  the  consulship  of  our  Lord  Theodorius  Au- 
gustus, for  the  second  time,  and  Merobaudes,  a  most  distinguished 
man,  for  the  third  time."     A.  D.  388. 


EARLY    INSCRIPTIONS.  895 

PERPETVAM  SEDEM  NVTRITOR  POSSIDES  IPSE 
HIC  MERITVS  FINEM  MAGNIS  DEFVNCTE  PERICLIS 
HIC  REQVIEM  FELIX  SVMIS  COGENTIBVS  ANNIS 
HIC  POSITVS  PAPAS  ANTIMIOO  VIXIT  ANNIS  LXX 

DEPOSITVS  DOMINO  NOSTRO  ARCADIO  II  ET  FL.RVFINO  VVCCSS  NONAS 
NOBEMB. 

"  You,  our  nursing  father,  occupy  a  perpetual  seat,  being 
dead,  and  deserving  an  end  of  your  great  dangers.  Here  happy, 
you  find  rest,  bowed  down  with  years.  Here  lies  the  tutor, 
Antimio,  who  lived  seventy  years.  Buried  on  the  nones  of 
November;  our  Lords  Arcadius  for  the  second  time,  and  Flavius 
Rufinus  being  consuls."     A.  D.  392. 

Galleria  Lapidaria- 


HIC  REQVIESCET  IN  SOMNO  PACIS 

MALA  QVI  VIXIT  ANNOS  XXXVIII.  M.  V.  DV. 

ACCEPTA  APVT  DE  IV.  IDVS  IVNIAS  AETIO  CONL. 

Hie  requiescet  (requiescit)  in  somno  pacis,  Mala  qui  (quse) 
vixit  annos  XXXVIII.  menses  V.  dies  V.  Accepta  aput  (apud) 
De(um)  IV  idus  Junias.     Actio  Consule. 

"  Here  rests  in  the  sleep  of  peace  Mala,  who  lived  thirty- 
eight  years,  five  months,  five  days.  Received  before  God,  oi? 
the  fourth  day  before  the  Ides  of  June,  in  the  consulshio  of 
Aetius."     A.  D.  432. 


LEVIVAE  CONIVNX  PETRONIA  FORMA  PVDORIS 

HIS  MEA  DEPONENS  SEDIBVS  OSSA  LOCO 
PARCITE  VOS  LA.CRIMIS  DVLCES  CVM  CONIVGE  NATAE 

VIVENTEMQVE  DEO  CREDITE  FLERE  NEFAS 
DP  IN  PACE  III  NON  OCTOBRIS  FESTO  VC.  CONSS. 

"  Petronia,  a  priest's  wife,  the  type  of  modesty.  In  this 
place  I  lay  my  bones;  spare  your  tears,  dear  husband  and  daugh- 
ters, and  believe  that  it  is  forbidden  to  weep  for  one  who  lives  in 
God.  Buried  in  peace  on  the  3d  nones  of  October,  in  the  con- 
sulate of  Festus."     A.  D.  472. 


8q6  tombs  and  catacombs. 

IN  PACE 
AVRELIO.  FELICI  QVI  BIXIT  CVM  COIVCE 
ANNOS  X.  VIII  DVLCIS.  IN  COIVGIO 
BONE  MEMORIE  BIXIT.  ANNOS.  L.  V 
RAPTVS  ETERNE  DOMVS.  XII  KAL.  lENVARIAS. 

"  In  peace 
To  Aurelius  Felix,  who  lived  with  his  wife  eighteen  years 
in  sweetest   wedlock.      Of  good   memory.     He  lived  fifty-five 
years.     Snatched  away  eternally  on  the  twelfth  kalend  of  Janu- 
ary." 


IRENE  IN  PACE. 

''  Irene  sleeps  in  peace.'' 


ARETVSA  IN  DEO 

"  Aretusa  sleeps  in  God.'' 


"Valeria  sleeps  in  peace." 


ZOTICVS  HIC  AD  DORMIENDVM. 
"  Zoticus  laid  here  to  sleep." 


DOMITIANUS  ANIMA  SIMPLEX 
DORMIT  IN  PACE. 

"Domitianus,  a  simple  soul,  sleeps  in  peace." 


NICEFORVS  ANIMA 
DVLCIS  IN  REFRIGERIO. 


"  Nicephorus,  a  sweet  soul,  in  a  place  of  refreshment.' 


INSCRIPTIONS    FROM    THE    CATACOMBS.  897 

PRIMITIVS  IN  PACE  QVI  POST 
MVLTaS.  ANGVSTIAS  FORTISSniVS  MARTYR 
ET.  VIXiT.  ANNOS  P.  M.  XXXVIII  CONIVG.  SVG 
PERDVLCISSIMO  BENEMKRENTI  FECIT. 

"  Primitius  in  peace:  a  most  valiant  mart3T  after  many  tor- 
ments. Aged  38.  His  wife  raised  tliis  to  her  dearest  well- 
deserving  husband." 


LANNVS  XPI.  MARTI R  HIC  REQVIESCIT. 
SVB  DIOCLIZIANO  PASSVS. 

"  Lannus,   a  martyr    of    Christ,    rests    here.      He   suffered 
under  Diocletian." 


NABIRA  IN  PACE  ANIMA  DVLCIS 
QVI  BIXIT  ANNOS  XVI.  M.  V 
ANIMA  MELEIEA 
TITVLV  FACTV 
A  PARENTES 


"  Navira  in  peace;  a  sweet  soul  who  lived  sixteen  years  and 
five  months;  a  soul  sweet  as  honey:  this  epitaph  was  made  by 
her  parents."  ^ 


SEVERO  FILIO  DVL 

CISSIMO  LAVRENTIVS 

PATER  BENEMERENTI  QVI  BI 

XIT  ANN.  nil.  ME.  VIII.  DIES  V. 

ACCERSITVS  AB  ANGELIS  VII.  IDVS.  lANVA.  ^ 

"  Laurence  to   his  sweetest   son   Severus,  borne   away  by 
angels  on  the  7th  ides  of  January." 


MACVS  PVER  INNOCENS 
ESSE  lAMINTER  INNOCENTIS  COEPISTI. 
QVAM  STAVILESTIVI  HAEC  VITA  EST 
QVAM  TELETVM  EXCIP  ET  MATER  ECLESIAE  DEOC 

MVNDO  REVERTENTEM  COMPREMATVR  PECTORVM 
GEMITVS  STRVATVR  FLETVS  OCVLORVM. 


"  Macus  (or  Marcus)  an  innocent  boy.     You  have  already 
tol 

57 


begun  to  be  among  the  innocent  ones.     How  enduring  is  such  a 


So8  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

life  to  you!  How  gladly  will  your  mother,  the  church  of  God, 
receive  you,  returning  to  this  world!  Let  us  restrain  our  sighs 
and  cease  from  weeping." 

Galleria  JLapidaria. 


PAX 

HIC  MIHI  SEMPER  DOLOR  ERIT  IN  AEVO 

ET  TVVM  BENERABILEM  BVL  TVM  LICEAT  VIDERE  SOPORE 

CONIVNX  ALBANAQVE  MIHI  SEMPER  CASTA  PVDICA 

RELICTVM  ME  TVO  GREMIO  QVEROR. 

QVOD  MIHI  SANCTVM  TE  DEDERA.T  DIVINITVS  AVTOR 

RELICTIS  TVIS  lACES  IN  PACE  SOPORE 

MERITA  RESVRGIS  TEMPORALIS  TIBI  DATA  REQVETIO 

QVE  VIXIT  ANNIS  XLV.  MENV.  DIES  XIII 

DEPOSITA  IN  PACE  FECIT  PLACVS  MARITVS 

Peace. 
"  This  grief  will  always  we'igh  upon  me:  may  it  be  granted 
me  to  behold  in  sleep  your  revered  countenance.  M}-  wife, 
A.lbana,  always  chaste  and  modest,  I  grieve,  deprived  of  your 
support,  for  our  Divine  Author  gave  you  to  me  as  a  sacred 
(boon).  You,  well-deserving  one,  having  left  3'our  (relations), 
lie  in  peace — in  sleep — you  will  arise — a  temporary  rest  is 
granted  you.  She  lived  forty-five  years,  five  months,  and  thir- 
teen days.     Buried  in  peace.     Placus,  her  husband,  made  this." 

Galleria  Lapidaria. 


CHURCH  OP  S.  SEBASTIAN  "  IN  CATACUMBIS." 

I.    Inscription   of   Pope    Damasus   in    Honor  of  S. 

EUTYCHIUS,     THE    MaRTYR,    IN    TWELVE    VERSES    (on    the    left 

I'.and  on  entering  the  church).  These  inscriptions  are  very 
numerous  in  the  catacombs,  and  all  of  this  beautiful  calligraphy, 
and  usually  in  Latin  verse,  not  without  elegance  of  style,  though 
the  construction  of  the  sentences  is  sometimes  not  clear.  Dama- 
sus restored  all  the  catacombs,  after  they  had  been  damaged 
during  the  persecution  under  Julian  the  Apostate. 


EARLY    INSCRIPTIONS.  899 

EVTYCniVS  .  MARTYR  .  CRVDELIA  .  IVSSA  .  TYRANNI 
CARNIFICVMQ  .  VI AS  .  PARITER  .  TVNC  .  MILLE  .  NOCENDI 
VINCeKE  .  QVOD  .  POTVIT  .  MONSTRAVIT  .  GLORIA  .  CHRISTi 
CARCeRIS.  INLVVIEM  .  SEQVITVR  .  NOVA  .  POENA  .  PER  .  ARTVS 
TESTARVM  .  FRAGMENTA  .  PARANT  .  NE  .  SOMNVS  .  ADIRET 
BISSENI  .  TRANSIERE  .  DIES  .  ALIMENTA  .  NEQANTVR 
MITTITVR  .  IN  .  BARATHRUM  .  SANCrVS  .  LAV  AT  .  OMNIA  .  SANGvIS 
VVLNERA  .  QVAE  .  INTVLERAT  .  MORTIS  .  METVENDA  .  TOTESTAS 
NOCTE  .  SOPORIFERA  .  TVRBANT  .  INSOMNIA  .  MENTExM 
OSTENDIT  .  LATEBRA  .  INSONTIS  .  QVAE  .  MEMBRA  .  TENERET 
QVAERITVR  .  INVENTVS  .  COLITVR  .  FOVET  .  OMNIA  .  PRESTANS 
EXPRESSIT.  DAMASVS  .  MERITVxM  .  VENERARE  .  SEPVLCuQVM  f 

"That  Eutychius,  the  Martyr,  was  able  to  overcome  the 
cruel  orders  of  the  tyrant,  and  equal!}-  at  that  time  the  execu- 
tioners' thousand  ways  of  torment,  the  glory  of  Christ  shewed. 
A  new  punishment  follows  the  tilth  of  the  prison.  They  provide 
breaking  of  tiles  on  his  limbs,  to  prevent  sleep  approaching. 
Twice  six  days  passed,  food  is  refused.  The  saint  is  thrown 
into  a  pit,  blood  bedews  all  the  wounds  which  the  dread  power 
of  death  had  caused.  In  night,  which  usually  brings  sleep, 
sleeplessness  troubles  his  mind.  The  place  of  concealment  which 
held  the  limbs  of  the  innocent,  manifested  them(?).  He  is 
sought  for,  being  found  he  is  reverenced,  he  benefits  all  things. 
Damasus  shewed  forth  his  exceeding  merit;  venerate  his  tomb." 

2.  Another  Inscription  in  the  same  Catacomb 
Church  (over  a  door  on  the  right-hand  side,  looking  towards 
the  altar). 

VISITET  .  HIC  .  PIA  .  MENS  .  SCTORVM  .  BVSTA  .  FREQVENTER 
IN  .  CRISTO  .  QVORVM  .  GLORIA  .  PERPES  .  ERIT 


HIC  .  EST  .  CEMETERIV  .  BEAT!  .  CHALIXTI  .  PAPE  .  ET  .  MARTIRIS 

INCLITI  .  QVICVQVE  .  ILLVD  .  COTRICTVS  .  ET  .  COFESSVS  .  INGRESSVS 

FVERIT  .  PLENAM  .  REMISSIONE.  OMNIV.  PECTORV  .  SVORV  .  OBTINEBIT 

PER  .  MERITA  .  GLORIOSA  .  CENTV .  SEPTVAGINTA  .  QVATVOR  .  MILIV 

SCTORV".  MARTIRV  .  QVORV  .  IBI  .  CORPORA  .  IN  .  PACE.  SEPVLTA  .  SVT 

VNA  .  CV  .  .  QVADRxVGINTA  .  SEX  .  PONJTIFICIBVS  .  BEATIS  .  QVI  .  OMNES 

EX  .  MAGNA  .  TRIBVLATIONE  .  VENERVT  .  ET  .  VT  .  HEREDES  .  IN  .  DOMO 

DOMINI  .  FIER"ET  .  MORTIS  .  SVPPLICIVM  .  PRO  .  CRISTI  .  NOMINE 

PERTVLERVNT 


900 


TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 


"  Here  let  the  pious  mind  often  visit  the  tombs  of  the  saints, 
Wliose  glory  will  be  everlasting  in  Christ.'' 

"  Here  is  the  cemetery  of  the  blessed  Calixtiis,  renowned 
Pope  and  Martyr.  Whoever  shall  have  entered  it  contrite  and 
after  confession,  shall  obtain  full  remission  of  all  his  sins,  through 
the  glorious  merits  of  174,000  martyr  saints,  whose  bodies  are 
buried  here  in  peace,  together  with  forty-six  blessed  pontiffs,  who 
all  came  out  of  great  tribulation,  and  suffered  the  punishment  of 
death  for  Christ's  name,  that  they  might  become  heirs  in  the 
Lord's  house." 


PAIJNTlNQp. 

If  the  tombs  of  the  early  martyrs,  before  ''  the  peace  of 
the  church,"  were  commonly  decorated  with  paintings  at  all, 
which  is  not  probable,  it  is  almost  certain  that  some  of  those 
paintings  have  been  renewed  at  various  subsequent  periods. 
The  best  monuments  of  the  first  three  centuries  are  the  tomb- 
stones with  inscriptions  and  small  simple  emblems  incised  upon 
them. 

It  is  difficult  to  decide  by  the  art  of  drawing  only  between 
the  end  of  the  third  and  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  century. 
But  this  art  was  in  the  height  of  perfection  in  the  first  century, 
in  the  second  it  was  still  very  good,  in  the  third  it  had  begun  to 
decline,  but  not  so  rapidly  as  to  justify  the  assumption  that  the 
very  bad  drawings  in  the  catacombs  belong  to  that  period,  with 
the  exception  of  those  already  mentioned  as  not  Christian.  The 
drawing  of  the  figures  in  the  mosaic  pictures  in  the  vault  of  S. 
Constantia,  which  are  of  the  first  half  of  the  fourth  century,  are 
decidedly  better  than  any  of  the  Scriptural  subjects  in  the  cata- 
combs.    The  mosaic  pictures  of  the  fifth  century  on  the  sides  of 


PAINTINGS.  901 

the  nave  ol"  S.  Maria  Maggiore,  published  by  Ciampini,  are  much 
more  like  them. 

S,  Paulimis,  bishop  of  Nola,  writing  in  the  fifth  century, 
says  that  he  had  painted  a  catacomb, yc>r  the  pil<rrtms^  and  gives 
his  reasons  for  doing  so.  He  thought  good  to  enliven  the  whole 
temple  of  S.  Felix,  in  order  that  these  colored  representations 
might  arrest  the  attention  of  the  rustics,  and  prevent  their  drink- 
ing too  much  at  the  feasts.  The  temple  here  evidently  means 
the  tomb  or  crvpt  in  which  the  commemorative  feasts  were  held, 
and  were  represented  by  paintings.  His  expressions  imply  that 
such  paintings  were  not  then  a  received  custom. 

That  the  painted  vaults  in  the  catacombs  were  used  for 
feasts  on  various  occasions  in  the  same  manner  as  the  painted 
chambers  in  the  Pagan  tombs,  is  evident  from  the  manner  in 
which  several  writers  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  mention 
them;  in  addition  to  the  letters  of  Paulinus  of  Nola  and  S. 
Augustine,  and  the  hymns  of  Prudentius,  there  is  also  a  remark- 
able passage  in  a  sermon  of  Theodoret  on  the  Martyrs  (written 
about  A.  D.  450): 

"  Our  Lord  God  leads  His  own  even  after  death  into  the 
temples  for  your  Gods,  and  renders  them  vain  and  empty;  but 
to  these  [Martyrs]  He  renders  the  honors  previously  paid  to 
them.  For  your  daiU'  food  and  your  sacred  and  other  feasts  of 
Peter,  Paul,  and  Thomas,  and  Sergius  and  Marcellinus,  and 
Leontius,  and  Antoninus,  and  Mauricius,  and  other  martyrs,  the 
solemnities  are  performed;  and  in  place  of  the  old  base  pomp 
and  obscene  words  and  acts,  their  modest  festivities  are  cele- 
brated, not  with  drunkenness  and  obscene  and  ludicrous  exhibi- 
tions, but  with  hearing  divine  songs  and  hol}^  sermons,  and 
prayers  and  praises  adorned  with  tears.  When,  therefore,  3^ou 
would  dilate  on  the  honor  of  the  martyrs,  what  use  is  there  in 
sifting  them?  Fly,  my  friends,  the  error  of  demons,  and  under 
their  guidance  seize  upon  the  road  that    leads   to  God,  and  wel- 


90  2 


TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 


come  their  presence  with  holy  songs,  as  the  way  is  to  eternal 
life/' 

Bosio  enumerates  six  cubiciila  or  family  burial-chapels  in  the 
cemetery  or  catacomb  of  Priscilla,  and  thirteen  arched  tombs 
with  paintings.  These  pictures,  of  which  he  gives  engravings, 
were  far  more  perfect  in  his  time  than  they  are  now.  His  en- 
gravings are  good  for  the  period  when  the}^  were  executed;  but 
it  was  a  time  when  all  drawing  was  bad,  slovenly,  and  incorrect, 
so  that  the  general  idea  only  of  the  picture  is  all  we  can  expect. 
The  costume  and  ornaments  do  not  indicate  any  very  early 
period  of  art,  but  rather  a  time  when  it  had  declined  consider- 
ably. Costume  in  Rome,  as  in  the  East  generally,  was  far  more 
stationary  and  less  subject  to  changes  than  in  the  West,  and 
these  may  be  as  early  as  the  fourth  or  fifth  century,  but  can 
hardly  be  earlier.  Several  of  the  martyrs  buried  in  the  Via 
Salaria  suffered  in  the  tenth  persecution  under  Diocletian,  called 
the  great  persecution,  about  the  year  300:  the  decorations  of 
their  tombs,  therefore,  can  not  be  earlier  than  tVie  fourth  century, 
and  many  of  them  have  been  restored  or  renewed  at  subsequent 
times.  John  I.,  A.  D.  523,  is  recorded  to  have  renewed  the 
cemetery  of  Priscilla,  and  this  probably  means  that  he  renewed 
the  paintings  in  the  style  of  his  own  time,  as  the  greater  part  of 
the  paintings  now  remaining  are  of  the  character  of  that  period. 

On  comparing  the  costumes  of  the  figures  in  this  catacomb 
with  those  in  the  illuminations  of  the  celebrated  manuscript  of 
Terence,  usually  attributed  to  the  seventh  or  eighth  century, 
and  which  can  hardly  be  earlier  than  the  fifth,  we  see  at  once 
that  the  long  flowing  robe  was  the  ordinary  costume  of  the 
period,  and  that  the  narrow  scarf  of  black  ribbon  hanging  over 
the  shoulders,  with  the  ends  reaching  nearly  to  the  ground,  was 
the  usual  badge  of  a  servant.  This  seems  to  have  been  adopted 
as  part  of  the  costume  of  a  Christian  going  to  pray  to  God, 
whether  ii\  a  church  or  chapel  or  any  other  place,  emblematical 


PAINTINGS. 


903 


of  the  yoke  of  Christ,  as  Durandus  says.  The  surplice  and 
stole  of  the  priest  of  the  Anglican  Church  is  a  more  close  copy 
of  this  ancient  costume  than  any  now  worn  in  the  Roman  church. 
The  rich  cope,  cape,  or  cloak  was  the  dress  of  the  Roman  sena- 
tor and  of  the  Pagan  priests;  it  was  probably  adopted  by  the 
Bishop  of  Rome  when  he  assumed  the  title  and  office  of  Pontifex 
Maximus,  and  after  a  time  the  custom  was  followed  by  other 
bishops  and  priests  of  his  communion. 


A  valuable  work  on  the  ancient  glass  vases  found  in  the 
catacombs  was  published  by  F.  Buonarotti  in  Florence,  nearly 
simultaneously  with  the  work  of  Boldetti  on  the  catacombs,  and 
of  Fabretti  on  the  inscriptions  found  in  them.  This  is  the  foun- 
dation of  all  the  subsequent  works  on  the  subject;  the  figures 
are  badly  drawn  and  engraved,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the 
period,  but  many  of"  the  later  works  are  not  much  better.  The 
subjects  are  generally  the  same  as  in  the  paintings  on  the  walls: 
the  Good  Shepherd,  more  numerous  than  an}^  other;  Adam  and 
Eve,  Moses  striking  the  Rock,  Noah  and  the  Ark,  the  raising  of 
Lazarus,  Peter  and  Paul,  generally  busts  —  these  are  very 
numerous.  Both  the  style  of  drawing  and  the  character  of  the 
inscriptions  indicate  late  dates  and  frequent  copying  from  the 
same  t3^pe.  In  one  are  three  figures,  S.  Peter,  S.  Paul,  with  S. 
Laurence  seated  between  them.  S.  Agnes  occurs  frequentl}^, 
always  drawn  as  in  the  usual  type  of  the  eighth  century.  Other 
busts  are  evidently  portraits  of  persons  interred.  In  some  are 
the  father,  mother  and  child; — one  has  the  name  of  Cerontius; 
another  of  two  busts,  Cericia  and  Sottacus; — another  is  a  family 
group,   father,   mother  and    four  children;    the   name  is   partly 


904 


TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 


broken  off  ....  n  ..  .  bvsvistris.  p.  z.  remains. — Abraham 
with  a  drawn  sword  in  his  hand,  and  Isaac  with  his  eyes  bound, 
knceHng  at  his  feet,  with  the  ram.  A  tall  female  tigure  with  the 
hands  uplifted  in  prayer;  the  inscription  is  petrvs  pavlvs  ane, 
possibly  for  Agnes.  Another  similar  subject  consists  of  two 
figures  seated  facing  each  other;  over  the  left  hand  figure  the 
name  Cristvs,  over  the  right  hand  one  istefanvs.  Several 
of  the  subjects  are  distinctly  Pagan;  others  are  evidently  from 
the  Jews'  catacomb,  as  two  lions  guarding  the  ark,  and  under 
them  two  of  the  seven-branched  candlesticks,  with  leaves  and 
vases  and  palm-branch. 


p,   CALIXTUg. 

This  is  one  of  the  earliest  of  the  catacombs;  it  is  mentioned 
at  a  very  early  period  as  a  burying-place  then  in  use,  not  as 
being  then  just  made.  Michele  de  Rossi,  in  the  course  of  his 
investigations  in  this  catacomb,  found  a  brick  staircase  and  some 
brick  lociili.,  evidently  an  alteration  of  and  addition  to  the  orig- 
inal catacombs,  and  the  stamps  on  these  bricks  were  those  of 
Marcus  Aurclius,  A.  D.  i6r-i8o.  This  staircase  is  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  catacomb,  made  for  the  purpose  of  enlarging  it,  and 
seems  to  show  that  the  ground  had  been  used  as  a  cemetery  in 
the  first  century.  The  original  part  was  probably  made  before 
there  were  any  Christians  to  be  buried.  Although  the  staircase 
is  later,  and  the  bricks  used  again,  they  were  probably  found  on 
the  spot. 

Calixtus  is  said  to  have  been  entrusted  with  the  government 
of  the  clergy,  and  set  over  the  cemetery  by  Zephyrinus  his  prede- 
cessor, before  he  became  bishop  or  pope.  This  expression,  over 
the  cemetery^  seems  to   prove   that  the  whole  of  the   catacombs 


S.  CALIXTUS.  905 

were  considered  as  one  cemetery,  and  that   he  had  the  general 
superintendence  of  the  burial  of"  the  Christians. 

This  is  the  catacomb  usually  exhibited  to  strang'ers  and  now 
used  for  pilgrimages;  its  present  state  is  very  uninteresting  to 
the  archaeologist.  The  upper  part  of  it  nearest  to  the  entrance 
has  been  so  much  restored  that  it  has  lost  all  archaeological  im- 
portance. This  portion  of  the  catacomb  is  illuminated  on  cer- 
tain occasions,  and  is  emplo3'ed  to  excite  the  devotion  of  the 
faithful.  A  low  mass  is  said  at  an  altar  fitted  up  in  the  ceme- 
tery chapel  of  S.  Csecilia,  on  the  anniversary  of  her  martyrdom, 
and  this  part  of  the  catacomb  on  that  occasion  is  illuminated 
with  candles. 

The  other  parts  are  in  the  usual  state,  stripped  of  nearly 
■every  inscription,  and  the  graves  empty.  The  earliest  inscrip- 
tion from  this  catacomb,  of  ascertained  date,  is  of  A.  D.  268  or 
279;  it  is  dated  by  the  names  of  the  consuls,  which  would  apply 
to  either  of  these  two  dates.  One  important  inscription  of 
Bishop  Damasus  is  preserved,  and  is  valuable  in  many  ways;  it 
shows  that  the  cemetery  chapel,  in  which  it  was  found,  was  made 
in  his  time,  and  the  slab  of  marble  on  which  it  is  engraved  has  a 
Pagan  inscription  on  the  back  of  it,  evidently  proving  that  it  was 
used  merely  as  a  slab  of  marble,  without  reference  to  that  inscrip- 
tion. It  shows  for  what  purpose  some  of  the  Pagan  inscriptions 
found  in  the  catacombs  may  have  been  brought  there.  Two  small 
and  very  curious  tombstones,  consisting  of  mosaic  pictures  said  to 
have  been  taken  from  this  catacomb,  are  now  preserved  in  the  sac- 
rist}'  of  the  church  of  S.  Maria  in  Trastevere.  They  were  for 
some  centuries  in  the  nave,  built  into  one  of  the  piers;  but  during 
the  restorations  made  in  1868-76,  they  were  removed  and  built 
into  the  wall  of  the  sacristy.  One  represents  a  landscape,  with 
building  in  the  style  of  the  third  century,  and  a  harbor  or  a  lake 
with  a  vessel,  and  fishermen  dragging  in  a  great  net,  evidently 
intended  for  the  miraculous   draught   of  fishes.     This   is  an   ex- 


906 


TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 


tremely  curious  mosaic  picture,  the  probable  date  of  which  is  the 
beginning  of  the  fourth  century.  The  other  small  mosaic  repre- 
sents birds  of  various  kinds,  and  is  much  earlier  than  the  view  of 
the  harbor,  perhaps  as  early  as  the  first  century.  Possibly  the  birds 
were  intended  to  be  symbolical  of  the  souls  of  the  faithful.  These 
are  engraved  by  Ciampini  in  his  work  on  Mosaics.  Some  of  the 
original  paintings   [Bosio  gives,  on  eight  plates,  engravings  of  a 


PAINTED   CEILING. 


number  of  vases  and  lamps  found  in  this  catacomb,  several  views 
o{  cuhicula^  and  upwards  of  seventy  paintings.  The  same  subjects 
have  been  repeated  by  Perret  and  Signor  de  Rossi.]  remain  in 
the  lower  part  of  this  catacomb  that  have  not  been  restored,  and 
these  are  of  the  usual  subjects:  Daniel  and  the  two  lions,  Moses 
striking  the  rock,  the  raising  of  Lazarus,  etc. 


S.   CALIXTUS. 


907 


THE  LA?T  gUPPER. 


S.   CA1.IXTUS. 


This  painting  has  more  tlie  appearance  of  being  really  in- 
tended for  tlic  Last  Supper  than  most  of  the  paintings  of  this 
class.  The  central  figure  has  a  certain  dignity  about  it.  Upon 
the  round  plates  on  the  table  are  fishes,  and  the  eight  baskets  are 
full  of  bread.  It  may  be  a  Christian  painting  of  a  bad  period, 
and  intended  to  commemorate  some  of  our  Lord's  miracles. 
The  principal  lines  on  the  edges  of  the  dresses  have  been  re- 
newed. This  painting  is  under  an  ai'co-solium  in  the  chapel  of 
the  Sacraments,  the  burial-place  of  the  Bishops  of  Rome  in  the 
third  century.  All  the  paintings  in  that  part  of  this  great  cata- 
comb that  is  usually  open  to  the  public,  and  in  which  masses  are 
said  on  certain  occasions,  have  long  been  said  b}'  well-informed 
persons  to  have  been  restored  within  the  last  twenty  years,  but 
this  is  now  denied  by  the  Roman  Catholic  authorities. 

An  engraving  of  this  painting  is  given  by  Bosio  in  the  sixth 
arco-solium  of  this  catacomb,  p.  523;  he  calls  it  Christ  and  the 
Apostles.  It  is  also  given  by  Perret  in  the  modern  French 
style,  vol.  i.  p.  28;  and  by  Dr.  Northcote  in  plate  xiii.,  much 
embellished  by  color  and  improved  by  the  skill  of  modern  artists. 


^.     PONTIANUp. 

The  Baptistery,  with  the  Baptism  of  Christ  painted  on  the 
wall,  over  the  arch.  He  is  represented  standing  in  the  River 
Jordan  up  to  His  waist  in  water,  in  which  fishes  are  swimming, 
and  at  which  a  hart  is  drinking;  the  Hoi}'  Dove  is  over  His 
head.  S.  John  Baptist  is  standing  on  the  bank,  and  pouring 
water  on   His  head,  or   perhaps   only   holding   out  his  hand  to 


c)o8  TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 

touch  it.     On  the  opposite  side  is  another  figure  in  a  white  dress, 
hiding  his  face.     All  the  three  figures  have  the  nimbus. 

AN    AGAPE. 

An  Agape,  or  love-feast,  is  a  common  subject  of  the  paint- 
ings in  the  catacombs,  and  sometimes  seems  to  be  evidently  a 
representation  of  the  family  gatherings  that  were  held  on  the 
anniversaries  in  these  tombs,  in  the  same  manner  as  they  were 
in  the  painted  tombs  in  the  Via  Latina  or  the  Via  Appia.  These 
paintings  are  often  supposed  to  be  the  Last  Supper,  and  some- 
times may  be  so,  but  the  one  before  us  can  hardly  be  intended 
for  Christ  and  his  Apostles. 

CHRIST    AND    THE    CHURCH. 

These  two  figures,  one  on  either  side  of  a  small  table,  on 
which  are  two  dishes,  one  with  a  fish  upon  it  and  the  other  with 
bread,  are  supposed  to  represent  our  Lord  after  the  Resurrection, 
and  the  Christian  Church  in  the  form  of  a  woman,  with  the 
hands  uplifted  in  the  Oriental  attitude  of  prayer,  such  as  is 
usually  called  in  the  catacombs  an  Orante.  This  explanation  is 
of  course  conjectural  only,  but  seems  not  improbable.  The 
painting  is  so  much  damaged  that  it  is  difficult  to  tell  to  what 
period  it  belongs.  A  part  of  this  great  catacomb  is  as  early  as 
the  second  century.  In  this  passage  stravit  ma}'  mean  covering 
the  walls  with  slabs  of  porphyry  also,  as  well  as  the  floor.  It  is 
evident  that  in  several  instances  the  word  -platonia  is  applied  by 
Anastasius  to  a  chapel  lined  with  marble  plates  for  inscriptions, 
as  at  S.  Sebastian's. 

HEAD     OF     CHRIST      IN      AN     AUREOLE. MARY,     MOTHER     OF 

CHRIST,     AND     MARY     MAGDALENE. ST.     MARK, 

ST.    PAUL    AND    ST.    PETER. 

This  cemetery  or  catacomb  is  on  the  western  side  of 
the  Tiber,  about  half  a  mile  beyond  the  Porta  Portuensis,  on 
the   road   to    Porto,    but   on   the    hill    above,   and   on    a    higher 


1„  _■  ,/4j^f^^ 


9IO 


TOMBS    AND    CATACOMBS. 


level  than  the  road  in  what  is  now  a  vineyard.  The  soil  in 
which  this  catacomb  is  made  is  quite  different  from  the  others; 
instead  of  the  granular  tufa,  or  volcanic  sand,  which  is  the  soil 
o-enerally  used  for  them  near  the  Via  Appia  and  the  Via  Ardea- 
tina,  this  is  an  alluvial  soil  formed  by  the  action  of  water  on  the 
bank  of  the  Tiber.  Whether  from  this  cause,  or  from  some 
others  that  have  not  been  explained,  the  paintings  in  this  cata- 
comb are  far  more  perfect  than  those  in  an}^  other;  they  are  the 
most  celebrated  and  the  most  popular,  and  those  that  have  been 
more  often  engraved  and  published  than  any  others. 

The  picture  of  the  head  of  Christ  is  a  ver}^  fine  one,  in  an 
aureole  or  circular  nimbus,  with  the  cross  on  it,  called  also  a 
cruciform  nimbus.  This  head  has  been  many  times  engraved 
and  published,  and  it  is  amusing  to  compare  those  commonly 
sold  in  the  shops  of  Rome  with  the  original  as  shown  in  the 
photograph.  These  will  illustrate  the  manner  in  which  the 
clever  modern  artists  have  improved  upon  the  originals;  it  is 
difficult  to  understand  that  they  are  intended  for  the  same  pic- 
ture. 

The  figures  of  the  three  saints,  St.  Paul,  St.  Peter,  and  St. 
Mark,  are  painted  on  the  ceiling,  while  Mary,  the  Mother  of 
Christ,  and  Mary  Magdalene  are  over  and  on  the  left  side  of  the 
head  of  Christ. 


i(tft-iftf 


wm 


^' 


A^ 


'<^ 


T^^VTJ^  ^K  WS  ?I?W 


It  may  seem  presumptuous  for  us  to  undertake  to  write 
upon  this  subject.  "  It  is  to  paint  tlie  sun  with  charcoal,'^  for  the 
most  scholastic  divine  to  give  his  reflections  on  the  Word  of  God. 
With  the  most  devout  feehng  of  the  intinite  vahie  of  such  an 
article  or  the  great  evil  which  might  result  from  the  complexity 
of  its  appearance,  we  have  concluded  that  nothing  but  the  most 
reverential  feeling  of  the  sacredness  of  the  subject  can  secure  us 
from  falling  into  dangers  not  to  be  lightly  regarded,  not  merely 
in  regard  to  facts,  but  in  respect  also  to  comments  and  reflections; 
but  with  this  caution  such  an  article  may  be  rendered  eminently 
edif3'ing  and  interesting. 

Why  should  we  conclude  this  work,  in  this  age  of  infidelity, 
without  at  least  stating  what  was  known  of  the  Bible?  Why 
should  we  not  bring  the  "  cloud  of  witnesses  "  of  the  ruins  we 
have  already  described?  The  discovery  of  the  Ass3Tian  and 
Babylonian  historic  records  running  contemporaneously  with 
Scripture  narratives  have  afforded  innumerable  points  of  proof. 
From  the  ruins  of  Nineveh  and  the  Valley  of  the  Nile;  from  the 
slabs  and  bas-reliefs  of  Sennacherib  and  the  tombs,  the  cata- 
combs with  their  i,ioo  Christian  inscriptions,  and  the  monuments 
of  Pharaoh;  from  the  rolls  of  Chaldee  paraphrasts  and  Syrian 
versionists ;  from  the  cells  and  libraries  of  monastic  scribes  and 
the    dry    and    dusty    labors    of  scholars    and    antiquarians,    the 

911 


QI2  TRUTH    OF    THE    BIBLE. 

skepticism  of   history  has    almost    been   silenced    by  the   vivid 
reproductions  of  the  ancient  and  eastern  world. 

An  attentive  perusal  of  the  present  volume  will  afford  many 
illustrations  of  these  remarks.  Knowing  that  the  substance  of 
the  narrative  is  drawn  from  sources  of  indisputable  authority,  the 
reader  can  have  no  anxiety  respecting  the  truth  of  the  facts 
recorded.  He  will,  therefore,  be  able  to  resign  himself  alto- 
o-cther  to  the  gracious  influence  which  such  a  history  is  calcu- 
lated to  exercise  on  the  mind. 

The  assistance  which  the  reader  will  derive  from  a  well- 
arranged  narrative  of  these  sublime  events  will  be  found  of 
importance,  not  only  as  exciting  attention  to  facts,  otherwise  less 
noticed,  but  as  habituating  him,  in  perusing  the  divine  originals, 
to  arrange  and  classify  the  several  portions  of  the  historv  for 
himself  When  this  ability  is  acquired,  the  mind  will  have  a 
readier  command  over  the  materials  of  reflection,  and  the  several 
arguments  on  which  the  proof  of  heavenly  truth  is  founded  will 
be  seen  with  greater  distinctness,  and  appreciated  with  a  more 
practical  feeling  of  their  strength  and  value. 

With  the  assistance  of  the  many  scholarly  productions  on 
this  matter,  why  should  we  not  at  least  set  the  Bible  side  by  side 
with  Homer,  Herodotus,  Virgil,  Horace,  and  others,  which  have 
already  taken  quite  a  space  in  the  present  work.  The  Scripture- 
surely  contains,  independently  of  a  divine  origin,  more  true  sub- 
limity, more  exquisite  beauty^  purer  morality^  mcjre  important 
history,  and  finer  strains  both  of  poetry  and  eloquence,  than 
could  be  collected  within  the  same  compass  from  all  other  books 
that  were  ever  composed  in  any  age  or  in  any  idiom. 

The  Bible  accords  in  a  wonderful  manner  with  universal 
history.  There  is  nothing  more  common  in  history  than  the 
recognition  of  a  Cyod.  Sacred  and  profane  history  alike  involve 
this  principle.  The  fictions  of  the  poets  respecting  the  different 
ages  of  the  world   coincide    with    Scripture    facts.      The    first^. 


ACCORDANCI.    WITH    ANCIENT    WRITINGS.  9I3 

or  Golden  Age,  is  described  as  a  paradisiacal  state,  feebly 
representing  the  bliss  of  the  first  pair  in  Eden,  Gen.  ii.  And  the 
second,  or  Iron  Age,  described  in  the  fiction  of  Pandora  and  her 
fatal  box  of  evils,  which  overspread  the  earth,  is  in  accordance 
w^ith  the  histor}'  of  the  introduction  of  evil  into  the  w^orld. 
Gen.  iii.  The  celebrated  Vossius  shows,  with  great  ingenuity, 
the  similitude  there  is  between  the  history  of  Moses  and  the 
table  of  Bacchus.  The  cosmogony  of  the  ancient  Phoenicians  is 
evidently  similar  to  the  account  of  creation  given  by  Moses, 
and  a  like  assertion  may  be  made  respecting  the  ancient  Greek 
philosophy.  Travel  north,  south,  east  and  west,  and  3'ou  find 
the  period  employed  in  creation  used  as  a  measure  of  time, 
though  no  natural  changes  point  it  out  as  a  measure,  as  is  the 
case  with  the  month  and  year.  Consult  the  heathen  classics,  the 
records  of  our  Scythian  ancestors,  the  superstitions  of  Egypt,  of 
the  Indies,  both  East  and  West,  and,  indeed,  of  all  the  varied 
forms  in  which  superstition  has  presented  herself,  and  in  one  or 
in  all  you  meet  with  evidences  of  a  universal  flood,  of  man's  fall, 
of  the  serpent  having  been  the  instrument  in  it,  of  propitiatory 
sacrifices,  of  the  expectation  of  a  great  deliverer.  The  long 
lives  of  men  in  the  early  ages  of  the  world  are  mentioned  by 
Berosus,  Manetho,  Hiromus  and  Helanicus,  as  also  by  Hesoid 
and  many  other  writers  quoted  by  Josephus,  and  afterwards  by 
Servius,  in  his  notes  on  Virgil.  Pausanius,  Philostratus,  Pliny 
and  several  other  writers  give  us  accounts  of  the  remains  of 
gigantic  bodies  which  have  been  found  in  the  earth,  serving  in 
some  degree  to  confirm  Moses'  account  of  the  antediluvian 
giants.  Berosus,  the  Chaldean  historian,  quoted  by  Josephus, 
and  Abidenus  by  Eusebius,  Plutarch,  Lucian,  Molo,  Nicholas 
Damascenus,  as  well  as  many  of  the  heathen  poets,  mention  the 
deluge;  and  some  traditions  respecting  it  are  to  be  found  among 
the  Americans  and  Chinese;  not  to  mention  what  some  modern 
travelers   have  fabulously  related   concerning  some  ruins  of  the 

58 


QI.  TRUTH    OF    THE    lilBLE. 

ark  said  to  remain  on  Mount  Ararat,  and  to  have  been  seen 
there  a  few  centuries  ago.  Alexander  Polyphistor  quotes  Arta- 
panus  and  Eupolemus,  as  mentioning  the  Tower  of  Babel;  and 
the  former  speaks  of  it  as  built  by  Belus.  Strabo,  Tacitus, 
Pliny,  etc.,  give  us  an  account  of  the  destruction  of  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah  and  the  neighboring  cities,  in  the, main  agreeable  to 
that  of  Moses.  Herodotus,  Diodorus,  Strabo,  etc.,  mention  cir- 
cumcision as  a  rite  used  by  several  of  those  nations  into  which;, 
according  to  Moses,  Abraham  traveled,  or  which  were  descended 
from  him.  Berosus,  and  several  others,  make  express  and 
honorable  mention  of  Abraham  and  some  of  his  family.  Eupo- 
lemus and  Dius,  as  quoted  by  Eusebius  and  Grotius,  mention 
many  remarkable  circumstances  of  David  and  Solomon,  agree- 
ing with  the  Old  Testament  story.  As  for  the  mention  of 
Nebuchadnezzar,  and  some  of  the  succeeding  kings  of  Babylon, 
as  well  as  of  Cyrus  and  his  successors,  it  is  so  common  in 
ancient  writers,  as  not  to  need  a  more  particular  notice  of  it. 
And  very  many  passages  of  the  Old  Testament  are  mentioned 
by  Celsus,  and  objections  to  Christianity  formed  upon  them.  Is 
not  all  this  in  favor  of  the  credibility  of  the  Old  Testament.'* 
And  with  respect  to  the  New  Testament,  we  have  the  testimony 
of  Tacitus  and  Suetonius  to  the  existence  of  Jesus  Christ,  the 
Founder  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  to  His  crucifixion  in  the 
reign  of  Tiberius,  and  during  the  procuratorship  of  Pontius 
Pilate,  the  time  in  which  the  evangelists  place  that  event. 
Porphyry,  also,  though  an  inveterate  enemy  to  Christianity,  not 
only  allowed  that  there  was  such  a  person  as  Christ,  but  honored 
Him  as  a  most  wise  and  pious  man,  translated  into  heaven  as 
being  approved  by  the  gods;  and  accordingly  quotes  some 
oracles,  referring  both  to  His  sufferings  and  virtues,  with  their 
subsequent  rewards.  Celsus,  likewise,  an  Epicurean  philosopher, 
full  ot  enmity  to  the  Christian  religion,  mentions  numberless 
circumstances  in  the  history  of  Christ,  indeed   so  many,  that  an 


ACCORDANCE    WWII    AXCIliNT    WRITINGS.  915 

abstract  of  the  Cliristian  history  might  ahiiost  be  taken  from  the 
very   fragments  of  his   book   preserved   by   Origen,   and    never 
pretends  to  dispute  His  real  existence,  or  tlie  truth  of  the  facts 
recorded  of  Him.     Hierocles,  a   man  of  learnincr  and  a  majris- 
trate,    who    wrote    against    the    Christians,   speaks   of  Jesus    as 
extolled  by  the  Christians  as  a  god;  mentions  Peter  and  Paul  by 
name;  and  refers  both  to  the  Gospels  and  to  the  Epistles.     The 
Emperor  Julian,  in  the  fourth  century,  called  "Apostate,"  writes 
of  the  birth  of  Jesus  in  the  reign  of  Augustus;  bears  witness  to 
the  genuineness  and  authenticity  of  the  Gospels,  and  the  Acts  of 
the  Apostles;  and  allows   that  Jesus    Christ   wrought  miracles. 
He  aimed  to  overthrow  the  Christian  religion,  but  has  confirmed 
it.     The  slaughter   of  the   infants  at  Bethlehem   is   attested  by 
Macrobius;    the    darkness    at    the    crucifixion    is    recorded    by 
Phlegon,   and  quoted   by  Origen.      The  manners  and  worship  of 
the   primitive  Christians   are   distinctly   named   by   Pliny.     The 
great  dearth  throughout  the  Roman  v/orld,  foretold  by  Agabus, 
in  the  reign  of  Claudius  (Acts  xi.  28),  is  attested  by  Suetonius 
Dion,  Josephus,    and  others.      The  expulsion   of  the  Jews  from 
Rome  by  Claudius  (Acts  xviii.  2)  was  occasioned,  says  Suetonius, 
by  the  insurrection  they  had  made  about  Chrestus,  which  is  his 
way  of  spelling   Christ.     It  has   been    repeatedly  proved,   with 
laborious  research,  and  profuse  erudition,  that  vestiges  of  all  the 
principal  doctrines  of  the  Christian  religion  are  to  be  found  in  the 
monuments,  writings,   or    mythologies   of  all   nations  and  ages. 
And  the  principal   facts  contained  in  the  Gospels  are  confirmed 
by    monuments    of    great    fame    subsisting    in    ever}'    Christian 
country  at   this  very  day.     For  instance,  baptism   in   the   name 
of  the  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost,  the  rite  by  which  from  the 
beginning  men   have  been   initiated  into  the   Church  of  Christ, 
and   the  profession  of  Christianity.     The    Lord's  Supper,    cele- 
brated in  memory  of  the  dying  love  of  Christ.      And  the  stated 
observation  of  the  first  day  of  the  week,  in  honor  of  Christ's 


Ql6 


TRUTH    OF    THE    BIBLE. 


.•       Tvnnn  the  dead      Who  can  say,  and  prove,  that  this 
rr:rr;:;  *e  ...  ana  .0..,.,  .-  *e  New  Testa. 


KUIK/Ii    FHOM    TIIH    AltCH    OF   TITIS. 

ment?     What  but  inspiration  could  have  produced  such  internal 
harmony,  and  such  cNternal  accordance? 


NO    BOOK     PRODUCED     BY    CHANCE.  9J7 

Of  the  monuments,  none  is  more  striking  than  the 
Arch  of  Titus.  This  celebrated  structure  was  erected  by  the 
Senate  and  the  people  of  Rome  in  estimation  of  the  services  of 
Titus  in  conquering  the  Jews.  It  is  probable  that  the  monument 
was  completed  after  the  death  of  Titus.  It  consists  of  a  single 
arch  of  Grecian  marble,  of  exquisite  proportions,  with  fluted  col- 
umns on  each  side.  The  frieze,  which  gives  it  special  interest  and 
value,  is  on  the  right-hand  side  passing  under  the  arch  going 
towards  the  Coliseum.  It  represents  the  triumphal  procession  of 
captive  Jews,  the  silver  trumpets,  the  tables  of  shew-bread,  and 
the  golden  candlestick,  with  its  seven  branches.  The  candlestick 
itself  is  said  to  have  been  thrown  into  the  Tiber  from  the  Milvina 
Bridge,  on  the  occasion  of  the  battle  between  Maxentius  and 
Constantine.  Should  the  proposal  to  turn  the  course  of  the 
Tiber  be  carried  into  effect  it  is  not  impossible  that  this  precious 
relic  may  yet  be  recovered. 

No  hook  was  ever  -produced  by  chance.  Every  volume  in 
the  world  is  indebted  for  its  existence  to  some  beino-  or  being-s. 
And  the  Bible,  we  are  assured,  could  not  but  have  had  an  intelli- 
gent author.  But  within  the  range  of  intelligence  there  exist 
only  bad  beings,  good  beings,  and  God.  Hence,  among  these 
must  be  found  whatever  originates  in  intelligence,  for  this  classi- 
ficntion  includes  all  beings  that  are  intelligent.  Now  that  bad 
beings — wicked  men  and  infernal  spirits — could  not  have  origi- 
nated a  book  so  full  of  goodness,  is  a  reasonable  opinion;  for  it 
bears  no  resemblance  to  such  an  origin.  It  commands  all  duty, 
forbids  all  sin,  and  pronounces  the  heaviest  penalties  against  all 
unholy  conduct;  and  as  darkness  can  not  originate  light,  so 
neither  can  evil  originate  good.  Nor  would  it  help  the  matter 
to  suppose  that  good  beings — pious  men  and  hol}^  angels — were 
the  contrivers  of  these  well-arranged  records;  for  they  neither 
could  nor  would  write  a  book,  ascribing  their  own  inventions  to 
divine  inspiration;  especially  as  such  forgeries  are  most  severely 


9i8 


TRUTH    OF     IHE    BlBl^E. 


reprobated  in  every  part  of  it.  As  therefore  God  is  the  only 
remaining  being  within  the  range  of  intelhgence  to  whom  the 
Scriptures  can  be  reasonably  ascribed,  they  must,  of  necessity, 
have  been  written  by  Him.  And,  indeed,  the  Bible  is  a  work  as 
much  exceeding  every  effort  of  mere  man  as  the  sun  surpasses 
those  scanty  illuminations  by  which  his  splendor  is  imitated,  or 
his  absence  supplied. 

We  are  now  conducted,  by  tair  and  consecutive  reasoning, 
to  our  last  general  proposition,  which  is  this:  God  v:as  the  author 
of  the  Bible. 

By  the  Bible  we  mean,  of  course,  both  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments.  "  The  two  Testaments,"  says  one,  ''  may  be 
likened  to  the  double-doors  of  the  Temple — the  Old  is  the  New 
infolded — the  New  is  the  Old  unfolded."  The  New  Testa- 
ment distinctly  recognizes  the  Old  as  a  revelation  from  God; 
and,  referring  to  the  Canon  as  received  by  the  Jews,  declares  the 
books  of  which  it  consists  genuine  and  credible.  And  by  God 
being  the  author  of  the  Bible  we  mean  that  it  was  "given  by 
inspiration  of  Him."  It  may  be  necessary  here  to  define  certain 
terms  which  either  have  been,  or  may  be,  hereafter,  employed  in 
this  essay.  And  these  are:— Scripture;  Testament;  Inspiration; 
Gospel;  Christianity;  and  Religion.  Scripture,  from  scriptura, 
signifies  writing — applied  by  way  of  eminence  to  what  is  written 
in  the  Bible.  Testament,  I'rom  testamentum,  a  deed  or  will;  but 
according  to  another  rendering  the  appropriate  name  of  the  Bible 
is,  the  Old  and  New  Covenants;  namely,  the  Mosaic  and  the 
Christian.  Inspiration,  from  spiro,  signifies  I  breathe.  "  By  the 
divine  inspiration  of  the  1  loly  Scriptures,"  says  an  able  writer, 
*'  I  mean,  such  an  immediate  and  complete  discover}',  by  the 
Holy  Spirit  to  the  minds  of  the  sacred  penmen,  of  these  things 
which  could  not  have  been  otherwise  known,  and  such  an  effec- 
tual superintcndency  as  to  those  matters  of  which  they  might  be 
inionned  or  b\-  other  means,  as  entirely  to   preserve  thein    from 


GOD    THE    AUTHOR. 


919 


all  error,  n  every  particular  which  could  in  the  least  affect  any 
of  the  doctrines  or  commandments  contained  in  their  writins-s." 
Gospel,  from  god,  good,  and  spell,  a  history,  a  narrative,  or  mes- 
sage; and  which  denotes  good  news,  glad  tidings,  news  from 
God — applied  emphatically  to  the  book  which  contains  the  recital 
of  our  Saviour's  life,  miracles,  death,  and  so  on.  Christianity, 
from  christianitas,  signifies  the  religion  of  Christians.  And 
Religion,  from  religare,  signifies  to  tie  or  bind,  because  by  true 
religion  the  soul  is  tied  or  bound,  as  it  were,  to  God  and  His 
service.  These  things  being  premised,  we  shall  be  justified  in 
proceeding  to  establish  our  proposition;  namely,  that  God  was 
the  author  of  the  Bible.  And  we  hold  this  to  be  demonstrable. 
From  Us  great  antiquity.  It  is  acknowledged  to  be  the 
oldest  book  in  the  world.  Its  records  embrace  the  creation  of 
the  world,  the  origin  of  man,  the  introduction  of  evil,  the  fall 
and  recovery  of  our  race;  and  it  contains  the  only  rational  ac- 
count ever  given  of  these  momentous  matters.  We  can  trace 
the  Bible  to  the  time  of  the  Caesars,  beyond  that  to  the  transla- 
tion of  the  Septuagint,  and  beyond  that  we  can  carry  the  proof 
up  to  the  separation  of  the  Jews  and  Samaritans ;  we  can  ascend 
up  to  the  time  when  we  discover  that  the  law  must  have  been 
given  by  a  person  called  Moses  to  a  people  in  the  wilderness,  at 
a  time  when  idolatry  was  universal,  and  just  as  we  have  the  facts 
recorded  in  the  nineteenth  and  twentieth  chapters  of  the  book  of 
Exodus.  And  if  Moses  did  not  get  the  law  from  God,  the  get- 
ting it  at  all — the  having  it  then  as  it  is — is  just  as  great  a  miracle 
as  its  coming  from  God  Himself;  and  you  may  take  your  choice 
of  the  miracles — tor  the  one  is  as  great  a  miracle  as  the  other 
Tatian,  one  of  the  Greek  fathers,  tells  us,  that  "  Though  Homer 
was  before  all  poets,  philosophers,  and  historians,  and  was  the 
most  ancient  of  all  profane  writers,  yet  Moses  was  more  ancient 
than  Homer  himself."  Tertullian,  another  celebrated  writer  of 
the   second   century,  speaks  to   the  same   effect.     "  The  Pagans 


Q20  TRUTH    OF    THE    BIBLE. 

themselves  have  not  denied  that  the  books  of  Moses  were  extant 
many  ages  before  the  states  and  cities  of  Greece;  before  their 
temples  and  gods;  and  also  before  the  beginning  of  Greek  let- 
ters." He  moreover  adds,  "■  Moses  lived  five  hundred  years 
before  Homer's  time;  and  the  other  prophets  who  came  a  long 
time  after  Moses  were  yet  more  ancient  than  any  of  the  wise 
men,  lawgivers,  and  philosophers  of  Greece.  And  as  the  writ- 
incTs  of  Homer  were  a  pattern  to  them,  so  in  like  manner  he  fol- 
lowed the  writings  of  the  prophets,  as  they  were  then  known  and 
spread  abroad  in  the  world."  And  the  excellent  and  learned  Sir 
W.  Jones,  adverting  to  the  same  point,  remarked,  "  The  antiq- 
uity of  these  writings  no  man  doubts." 

From  its  uncorrupted  preservatio7i.  Though  it  has  been 
hated  and  held  in  utter  detestation  by  thousands,  yet  it  has  been 
preserved  amidst  all  the  revolutions  of  time,  and  handed  down 
from  generation  to  generation,  even  until  now.  And  that  it  is  in 
all  essential  points  the  same  as  it  came  originally  from  the  hands 
of  its  authors,  we  have  the  most  satisfactory  evidence  that  can 
be  required.  "With  regard  to  the  Old  Testament,"  says  the 
late  learned  William  Greenfield,  "  the  original  manuscripts  were 
long  preserved  among  the  Jews,  who  were  always  remarkable 
for  being  most  faithful  guardians  of  their  sacred  books,  which 
they  transcribed  repeatedly,  and  compared  most  carefuU}'  with 
the  originals,  of  which  they  even  numbered  the  words  and  let- 
ters. That  the  Jews  have  neither  mutilated  nor  corrupted  these 
writings  is  fully  proved  by  the  silence  of  the  prophets  as  well  as 
of  Christ  and  His  apostles,  who,  though  they  bring  many  heavy 
charges  against  them,  never  once  accuse  them  of  corrupting  one 
of  their  sacred  writings;  and  also  by  the  agreement,  in  every 
essential  point,  of  all  the  versions  and  manuscripts,  amounting  to 
nearly  1,150,  which  are  now  extant,  and  which  furnishes  a  clear 
]-»roof  of  their  uncorrupted  preservation. 

One  of  the  most  wonderfiil  and  ancient  of  these  is  the  Pen- 


THE    PENTATEUCH. 


921 


tateuch,  as  represented  in  the  cut  below.     Mr.  Mills  says  of  it : 
"  The  roll   itself  is   of  what  we  would   call  parchment,  but  of  a 


PENTATEUCH,   WRITTEN   3200  YEARS  AGO. 

material  much  older  than  that,  written  in  columns  twelve  inches 
deep  and  seven  and  a  half  wide.     The  writing  is  in  a  fair  hand 


922 


TRUTH    OF    THE    BIBLE. 


but  not  nearly  so  large  or  beautiful  as  the  book  copies  which  I 
had  previously  examined.  The  writing  being  rather  small  each 
column  contains  from  seventy  to  seventy-two  lines.  The  name 
of  the  scribe  is  written  in  a  kind  of  acrostic,  and  forms  part  of 
the  text,  running  through  three  columns  and  is  found  in  the  book 
of  Deuteronomy.  It  was  the  work  ot"  the  great  grandson  of 
Aaron,  as  indicated  in  the  writing.  The  roll  has  all  the  appear- 
ance of  a  very  high  antiquity,  and  is  wonderfully  well  preserved^ 
considering  its  venerable  age. 

"  One  of  the  halves  of  the  metal  cylinder  is  very  curious  and 
deserves  more  attention  than  it  has  received  at  the  hands  of 
Biblical  archaeologists.  It  is  of  silver,  about  two  feet  and  six 
inches  long,  by  ten  or  twelve  inches  in  diameter,  and  is  covered 
with  embossed  work  with  a  descriptive  legend  attached  to  each 
portion.     It  proves  to  be  the  Tabernacle  of  the  Wilderness. 

"  In  fact,  the  constant  reading  of  the  sacred  books,  which 
were  at  once  the  rule  of  their  faith  and  of  their  political  consti- 
tution, in  public  and  private;  the  numerous  copies  of  the  original 
as  well  as  of  the  Septuagint  version,  which  was  widely  spread 
over  the  world;  the  various  sects  and  parties  into  which  the  Jews 
were  divided  after  their  canon  was  closed,  as  well  as  their  disper- 
sion into  every  part  of  the  globe,  concurred  to  render  any  at- 
tempt at  fabrication  impossible  before  the  time  of  Christ,  and 
after  that  period,  the  same  books  being  in  the  hands  of  the 
Christians,  they  would  instantly  have  detected  the  fraud  of 
the  Jews  if  the}'  had  endeavored  to  accomplish  such  a  design, 
while  the  silence  of  the  Jews,  who  would  not  have  failed  to 
notice  the  attempt  if  it  had  been  made,  is  a  clear  proof  that  they 
were  not  corrupted  by  the  Christians. 

"  Equally  satisfactory  is  the  evidence  for  the  integrit}'  and 
'ncorruptness  of  the  New  Testament.  The  multiplication  of 
copies,  both  of  the  original  and  of  translations  into  a  variety  of 
languages,  which  were  read,  not  only  in  private,  but  publicly  in. 


PRESERVATION    OF    THE    SCRII'lTRES 


923 


the  religious  assemblies  of  the  eail\-  Chrislians;   the  reverence  of 
the  Christians  for  these   writings;  the  variety-  of  sects  and  here- 
sies which  soon  arose  in  the  Christian  Church,  each  of  wliom 
appealed    to    the    Scriptures    for    the    truth    of  their    doctrines, 
rendered  any  material    alteration    in   the    sacred    books    utterly 
impossible;  while  the  silence  of  their  acutest  enemies,  who  would 
most  assuredly  have  charged  them  with  the  attempt  if  it  had 
been  made,  and  the  agreement  of  all  the  manuscripts  and  ver- 
sions extant,  are  positive  proofs  of  the  integrity  and  incorruptness 
of  the    New    Testament;     which    are    further   attested    by   the 
agreement   with    it   of   all    the    quotations   which    occur    in    the 
writings  of  the  Christians  from  the  earliest  age  to  the  present 
time.     In  fact,  so  far  from  there  having  been  any  gross  adulter- 
ation in  the  Sacred  Volumes,  the  best  and  most  able  critics  have 
proved  that,  even  in  lesser  matters,  the  Holy  Scriptures  of  the 
New  Testament  have  suffered    less  from  the  injuries  of  time  and 
the  errors  of  transcribers  than  an}^  other  ancient  writings  what- 
ever;   and  that   the  very  worst    manuscript    extant    would    not 
pervert  one  article  of  our  faith,  nor  destroy  one  moral  precept." 

Add  to  this  the  testimony  of  the  British  Critic.  "  Not  one 
syllable  penned  by  eight  obscure  authors  of  the  Scriptures  of  the 
New  Testament,  received  by  the  Church  as  canonic?^  at  the 
death  of  John,  has  been  lost  in  the  course  of  eighteen  centuries. 
Yet  of  the  historical  works  of  Tacitus  half  at  least  are  wanting; 
out  of  the  one  hundred  and  forty-four  books  of  Livy  only  thirty- 
five  exist;  the  collections  of  Atticus  have  entirelv  perished;  the 
orations  of  Hortensius  are  known  onl}^  through  the  allusions  of 
his  rival;  and  the  literary  fame  of  the  great  dictator  survives 
but  in  two  narratives,  one  of  which  has  sometimes  been  doubted. 
'Where  is  the  wise?  Where  is  the  scribe.^  Where  is  the  dis- 
puter  of  this  world  ?  '  May  it  not  be  the  power  of  God  which, 
amidst  this  wreck  of  eloquence  and  learning,  has  preserved  un- 
mutilated,  even  to   these   later   days,  the  simple  and  unstudied 


924 


TRUTH    OF    THE    BIBLE. 


compositions  of  the  illiterate  Galileans — the  impassioned  but 
ruo-cred  addresses  of  the  tent-maker  of  Cilicia?''  Dr.  Adam 
Clarke,  no  mean  judge,  pronounced  b}'  the  late  Rev.  Robert 
Hall  to  have  been  •'  an  ocean  of  learning/'  said,  "  I  have 
diligently  examined  the  question,  and  I  can  conscientiously  say 
that  we  have  the  Sacred  Oracles,  at  least  in  essential  sum  and 
substance,  as  they  were  delivered  by  God  to  Moses  and  the 
prophets;  and  to  the  Church  of  Christ  by  Jesus,  His  evangelists 
and  apostles;  and  that  nothing  in  the  various  readings  of  the 
Plebrew  and  Greek  manuscripts  can  be  found  to  strengthen  any 
error  in  doctrine  or  obliquity  in  moral  practice.  All  is  safe  and 
sound — all  is  pure  and  holy.''  And  the  judicious  Selden,  whom 
Grotius  calls  "the  glor}^  of  the  English  nation,"  in  his  "Table 
Talk,"  speaking  of  the  Bible,  says,  "  The  English  translation  of 
the  Bible  is  the  best  translation  in  the  world,  and  renders  the 
sense  of  the  original  best;  taking  in  for  the  English  translation 
the  Bishop's  Bible  as  well  as  King  James'.  The  translators  in 
King  James'  time  took  an  excellent  way.  That  part  of  the 
Bible  was  given  to  him  who  was  most  excellent  in  such  a  tongue, 
and  then  thev  met  t(  gether,  and  one  read  the  translation,  the 
others  holding  in  their  hands  some  Bible,  either  of  the  learned 
tongues,  or  French,  Spanish,  or  Italian,  etc.  If  they  found  any 
fault  they  spoke,  if  not  he  read  on."^' 

From  its  iniportauf  discoveries.  It  makes  discoveries  to 
man  on  the  most  momentous  subjects,  which  natural  reason 
never  could  have  made.  One  of  the  ancients  said,  "  The  Bible 
is  the  history  of  God."  It  reveals  all  that  is  needful  to  be  known 
of  the  existence,  nature,  perfections,  relations,  mind  and  will  of 
God.  It  discloses  the  whole  history  of  man — opening  with  his 
creation,  continuing  witli  his  present  state,  and  closing  w4th  his 
eternal  destiny.  It  lays  open  the  amazing  love  of  God  to  man, 
the  plan  '^f  redemption,  the  means  of  salvation  and  the  cleansing 

*  King  James'  Bible  is  thai  now  commonly  used  in  this  country  and  Grea>  Britain. 


ITS    IMPORTANT    DISCOVERIES.  925 

nature  of  the  blood  of  Christ.  It  furnishes  answers  to  the  most 
interesting  and  perplexing  questions  ever  suggested  to  man  by 
himself,  or  propounded  to  him  by  his  fellow-beings;  and  thus 
supplies  him  with  that  information  which  no  other  volume  can 
impart.  It  points  a  second  life,  unveils  eternity,  and  speaks  of 
the  resurrection  of  the  body — the  immortality  of  the  soul — a 
judgment  to  come — a  heaven,  the  gift  of  redeeming  love — and  a 
hell,  the  dire  desert  of  sin.  In  one  word,  it  is  God's  heart 
opened  to  man — -a  map  of  heaven — an  infallible  rule  of  life — an 
immovable  ground  of  hope — an  everlasting  spring  of  consolation 
— and  the  only  sure  guide  to  eternal  life  and  happiness.  A  fine 
old  writer  beautifully  remarks,  "  What  is  there  not  in  the  holy 
Scriptures?  Are  we  poor?  There  is  a  treasury  of  riches?  Are 
we  sick?  There  is  a  shop  of  soul-medicines.  Are  we  fainting? 
There  is  a  cabinet  of  cordials.  Are  we  Christless?  There  is 
the  star  that  leads  to  Christ.  Are  we  Christians?  There  are 
the  bands  that  keep  in  Christ.  Are  we  afflicted?  There  is  our 
solace.  Are  we  persecuted?  There  is  our  protection.  Are  we 
deserted?  There  is  our  recovery.  Are  we  tempted?  There 
are  our  sword  and  victory.  Are  we  young?  There  is  our 
beauty.  Are  we  old?  ^  There  is  our  wisdom.  While  we  live, 
here  is  the  rule  of  our  conversation;  when  we  die,  here  is  the 
hope  of  our  glorification.  So  that  I  may  sa}'  with  TertuUian,  '  I 
adore  the  fullness  of  the  Scripture.'  Oh  blessed  Scriptures t 
Who  can  know  them  and  not  love  them?  Who  can  love  them 
and  not  delight  to  meditate  in  them  night  and  day?  Who  can 
meditate  in  them  and  not  desire  to  love  them,  love  to  desire 
them,  and  both  desire  and  love  to  understand  them?  This  is 
the  Book  of  books,  as  David  said  of  Goliah's  sword,  '  There's 
none  like  that.'  "  The  Bible  is,  indeed,  what  that  great  philos- 
opher, the  Honorable  Robert  Boyle,  called  it,  "that  matchless 
book."We  have  often  thought  that  the  sublime  descriptions  which 
it  gives  of  God,  the  humbling  and   exalting  doctrines  which  it 


Q26  TRUTH    OF     I'HE    BIBLE. 

reveals,  and  the  high-toned  morahty  which  it  inculcates,  are 
of  themselves  proofs  decisive  of  its  divine  authority.  For,  cer- 
tainlv,  there  is  nothing  like  them  in  the  most  admired  productions 
of  the  most  celebrated  authors,  either  in  ancient  or  modern 
times. 

From  its  -peculiar  style.  How  remarkably  simple  and 
plain!  No  histories  were  ever  so  plainly  related  as  those  of  the 
Bible:  no  precepts  were  ever  so  clear,  or  promises  less  ambigu- 
ous. How  wonderfully  grand  and  sublime!  Whenever  the 
matter  requires  it,  the  style  is 

"  Like  the  ladder  in  the  Patriarch's  dream, 
Its  foot  on  earth,  its  height  beyond  the  skies." 

Witness  many  of  the  Psalms;  the  book  of  Job;  the  prophets, 
especially,  Isaiali  xl.  and  xliii.;  and  the  Apocalypse.  And  how 
astonishinglv  concise  and  expressive!  The  sacred  writers  never 
burden  their  subject  with  a  load  of  words.  They  express  them- 
selves in  words  few,  and  well-chosen — "in  comely  dress,  without 
the  paint  of  art."  Witness  the  Proverbs;  i  Cor.  xiii.,  etc. 
"  Let  there  be  light,"  is  noticed  by  the  great  critic  Longinus, 
as  a  trulv  lofty  expression.  And  the  style  of  Scripture  has 
awakened  the  attention  even  of  infidels.  Rousseau  was  struck 
witli  the  majesty  of  the  Scriptures.  His  eloquent  eulogium  on 
the  Gospel  and  its  author  is  well  known.  Dr.  Tillotson  observes: 
"The  descriptions  which  Virgil  makes  of  the  Elysian  Fields  and 
the  Infernal  Regions  fall  infinitely  short  of  the  majesty  of  the 
holy  Scriptures  when  describing  heaven  and  hell,  so  that  in  com- 
parison thev  are  childish  and  trifling;"  and  yet,  perhaps,  he  had 
the  most  regular  and  best  governed  imagination  of  any  man,  and 
observed  the  greatest  decorum  in  his  descriptions.  "  There  are 
I  know,"  said  the  elegant  Joseph  Addison,  "  men  of  heavy  tem- 
per and  without  genius,  who  can  read  the  words  of  Scripture 
with  as  much  indifference  as  they  do  other  papers;  however,  I 
will  not  despair  to  bring  men  of  wit    into  a    love  and  admiration 


ITS    HARMONY. 


927 


of  the  sacred  writings,  and,  old  as  I  am,  I  promise  myself"  to  see 
the  day  when  it  shall  be  as  much  the  lash  ion  among  men  ol' 
politeness,  to  admire  a  rapture  of  St.  Paul's,  as  a  tine  expression 
of  Virgil  or  Homer;  and  to  see  a  well-dressed  young  man  pro- 
duce an  evangelist  out  of  his  pocket,  and  be  no  more  out  of 
countenance  than  if  it  were  a  classic  printed  by  Elzevir.'' 

From  its  internal  harmony.  Though  written  at  different 
periods,  by  persons  residing  in  different  parts  of  the  earth,  and 
by  persons  whose  natural  abilities,  education,  habits,  employ- 
ments, etc.,  were  exceedingly  varied,  yet  where  is  there  any  real 
contradiction?  The  sacred  writers  exactly  coincide  in  the  exhi- 
bition they  give  us  of  God;  of  man;  of  sin  and  salvation;  of  this 
world  and  the  next;  and,  in  short,  of  all  things  connected  with 
our  duty,  safety,  interest,  and  comfort.  The}'  all  were  evidently 
of  the  same  judgment,  aimed  to  establish  the  same  principles, 
and  applied  them  to  the  same  practical  purposes.  They  could 
not  write  by  concert — comparing  notes,  etc.,  for  the}'  lived  in 
different  times  and  places;  and  yet  the  exact  coincidence  that  is 
perceived  among  them,  by  the  diligent  student,  is  most  astonish- 
ing, and  can  not  be  accounted  for  on  an}-  rational  principles 
without  admitting  that  they  ''  wrote  as  the}'  were  moved  by  the 
Holy  Ghost." 

"  Whence,  but  from  heaven,  should  men,  unskilled  in  arts, 
In  different  nations  born,  and  different  parts, 
Weave  such  agreeing  truths;   or  how.  or  why 
Should  all  conspire  to  cheat  us  with  a  lie? 
Unasked  their  pains;  ungrateful  their  advice; 
Starving  their  gains,  and  martyrdom  their  prize." 

From  its  strihin^r  impartiality.  The  amanuenses  or  pen- 
men of  the  Holy  Ghost  for  the  Scriptures  were  not  contemptible 
or  ordinary,  but  incomparable  and  extraordinary  persons.  As 
Moses,  "  the  meekest  man  on  earth,"  the  peculiar  favorite  of 
God,  with  whom  God  ''talked  face  to  face;"  the   None-such  of 


9:8 


TRUTH    OF    THE    BIBLE. 


all  the  prophets   in  Israel.     Samuel,  the   mighty  man   in  prayer. 
David   the  King,    "that   man   alter  God's   own  heart."      King 
Solomon,  that  '^  wisest  of  all  the   Kings,"  whom   God   honored 
with  the  building  of  the   Temple.     Daniel,  in  whom  was   found 
'^an    excellent    spirit,"    and    great    dexterity    in     "expounding 
secrets  and  mysteries."     John,  "  the  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved  " 
above  all  the  rest,  who   'Meaned  on  Jesus'  breast."     Paul,  "who 
was  caught  up  into  the  third  heavens,"   "  whose  writings,"  saith 
Chrvsostom,  "  like  a  wall  of  adamant,  compass  about,  or  surround^ 
all  the  churches."     In  a  word,   "  all  of  them  holy  men  of  God,- 
moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost."     The  moral  character  of  the  sacred 
penmen  is  above  suspicion:    their  greatest   enemies  have  never 
attempted  to  throw  the  least  stain  upon  their  characters.     Many 
of  them  were  actually  present  at  the  scenes  which  they  describe;; 
eye-witnesses  of  the  facts,  and   ear- witnesses  of   the  discourses, 
which   they  describe.      They  could  not,  therefore,  be   deceived' 
themselves:  nor  could  they  have  the  least  inducement  to  deceive- 
others.      They   honestly  record   their  own  mistakes  and   faults,, 
as  well  as  the  other  particulars  of  the  story.     Every  candid  per- 
son must  admit  that  the  Scriptures   are   remarkable  for   faithful- 
ness of  narrative,  and  that,  contrary  to  the  practice  of  other  his- 
tories, they  do  not  conceal  the  faults  of  the  persons  they  describe= 
The  faults  of  Abraham  and  Jacob  are   detailed,  as  well  as  their 
virtues;    and   the  incredulity  of  Thomas,  and  the   defection   of 
Peter,  are  not  concealed,  but  faithfully  recorded.     The  apostles,, 
especially,  seem  everywhere  to   forget  that  they  are  writing  of  • 
themselves,  and  appear  not  at  all  solicitous  about  their  own  repu- 
tation, but  only  that  they  might  represent  facts  just  as  they  were, 
whatever  might  be  the   consequences.     Hence   the}'  readil}'  con- 
fess, not  only  the  meanness   of  their   original  emplo3'ments,  and 
the   scandals   of   their   former  lilc,   but   their   prejudices,    follies, 
faults,  unbelief,   cowardice,  ambition,   rash   zeal,   foolish  conten- 
tions, etc.     How  faithful  is   the   pen  of  inspiration — here   truth. 


ITS    IMPARTIALITY.  929 

with  impartial  hand  dips  her  pencil,  now  in  brighter,  now  in 
darker  colors,  and  thus  draws  her  characters  ,to  the  very  Hie. 
Dr.  Beattie  justl}'  sa3's.  "  The  style  of  the  Gospel  bears  intrin- 
sic evidence  of  its  truth.  We  find  there  no  appearance  of  arti- 
fice or  party  spirit ;  no  attempt  to  exaggerate  on  the  one  hand,  or 
depreciate  on  the  otiicr;  no  remarks  thrown  in  to  anticipate  ob- 
jections, nothing  of  that  caution  which  never  fails  to  distinguish 
the  testimony  of  those  who  are  conscious  of  imposture;  no 
endeavor  to  reconcile  the  reader's  mind  to  what  may  be  extra- 
ordinary in  the  narrative;  all  is  fair,  candid,  and  simple."  And 
we  number  this  among  the  proofs  of  the  Divine  authority  of  the 
Bible. 

From  lis  stupendous  miracles.  Miracle,  from  miraculum,  a 
wonder,  a  prodigy.  "  A  miracle,"  says  Home,  "  is  a  sensible 
suspension  or  controlment  of,  or  deviation  from,  the  known  laws 
of  nature.'"  It  is  a  signal  act  of  Divine  Omnipotence,  that  which 
no  other  being  but  God  can  do.  Miracles  flow  trom  Divine 
power,  and  are  the  proper  evidence  of  a  Divine  mission.  The 
reality  of  the  miracles  recorded  in  Scripture,  wrought  by  Christ, 
and  by  prophets  and  apostles,  may  be  proved  by  the  number  and 
variety — their  being  performed  publicly,  and  not  in  a  corner — 
before  enemies  as  well  as  before  friends — instantaneously ,  and 
and  not  by  degrees — and  independent  of  all  second  causes — were 
such  as  all  men.  could  exami?ie  and  judge  ol^ — and  all  served  an 
important  end^  worthy  of  a  Divine  author:  viz.,  to  establish 
Divine  truth.  How  superior  the  miracles  wrought  by  Moses 
and  Aaron  to  those  wrought  by  the  wise  men  and  the  sorcerers 
and  the  magicians  of  Egypt!  Witness  the  transformation  of  ths 
rod,  Exodus  vii.  10-12— the  production  of  the  annoying  vermin 
lice —  Exodus  viii.  16-19 — the  plague  of  darkness.  Exodus  x. 
22-24 — the  dividing  of  the  Red  Sea,  Exodus  xiv.  21-31.  These 
bear  all  the  characters  of  true  miracles.  And  how  far  above 
the  pretended  supernatural  doings  of  Mohammed,  and  the  alleged 
59 


Q70  TRUTH    OF    THE    BIBLE. 

Pa"-an  and  Romish  miracles,  were  the  wonderful  deeds  ol'  Christ 
and  His  apostles!  For  example,  our  Saviour  stilled  the  tempest, 
calmed  the  ruffled  ocean,  walked  upon  the  sea,  fed  the  famished 
multitude,  opened  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  unstopped  the  ears  of 
the  deaf,  healed  the  sick,  cleansed  the  lepers,  cast  out  devils, 
raised  the  dead,  and  restored  Himself  to  life;  and  His  apostles 
healed  the  lame,  cast  out  a  spirit  of  divination,  gave  the  Holy 
Ghost,  restored  the  dead  to  life,  etc.  Every  ingenuous  mind 
must  see  in  these  all  the  characters  of  real  miracles.  Ponder 
Matt.  xi.  2-6;  and  John  xiv.  ii.  Nicodemus,  a  Pharisee  and 
ruler  among  the  Jews,  was  so  struck  with  the  extraordinary 
character  of  our  Lord's  miracles  that  he  came  to  Him,  saying, 
■'  Rabbi,"  excellent  master,  "  we  know  that  Thou  art  a  teacher 
come  from  God:  for  no  man  can  do  these  miracles  that  Thou 
doest,  except  God  be  with  Him."  And  miracles  we  think,  with 
Nicodemus,  show  that  a  prophet  or  religious  teacher  comes  from 
God,  because  God  would  not  work  a  miracle  in  attestation  of  a 
falsehood,  or  to  encourage  a  false  teacher.  When,  therelbre,  a 
miracle  is  wTought  in  confirmation  of  anything,  or  as  evidence 
of  anything,  we  know  that  the  thing  is  true,  because  God  has 
given  to  it  His  testimony.  Ever\-  real  miracle  is  a  work  ot'  God, 
done  by  His  permission,  and  with  His  concurrence;  it  is  there- 
fore, emphatically,  the  testimony  of  God.  And  that  greatest  of 
miracles,  the  resurrection  of  our  Lord  Himself  from  the  dead, 
crowns  the  whole,  and  clearly  attests  the  Divinity  of  the  Bible, 
and  the  truth  of  the  Christian  religion. 

From  its  ivonderfnl  ■prophecies.  Prophecy  is  a  declaration 
of  something  to  come;  a  prediction  of  future  events.  It  is  the 
foretelling  of  such  future  things  as  were  be}'ond  the  reach  of 
human  sagacity,  and  which,  therefore,  none  but  God  could 
reveal.  What  mere  man  can  foretell  the  events  of  to-morrow.^ 
Who  can  say  what  shall  transpire  in  ages  to  come.''  This  is  the 
sole  prerogative  of  God,   who  alone   knows   the   end   iVom  the 


ITS    PROPHIiClES.  931 

beginning-.      Now   the    Bible    abounds    with    predictions    which 
were  uttered  long  before  their  actual  fullillment,  and  which  no 
human  sagacity  or  foresight  could  possibly  conjecture  or  foretell. 
Take  the  first  gospel  promise  given — the  seed  of  the  woman  to 
bruise  the  serpent's  head;  and  remember  that  this  promise  was 
delivered  at  least  four  thousand  years  before  its  fullillment.    The 
celebrated    prediction    of  Jacob    (Gen.    xlix.    10)    was    uttered 
between   sixteen    and   seventeen   hundred    years    before   it   took 
place.     Moses  declared  the  siege  of  Jerusalem  by  the  Romans, 
etc.  (Dent,  xxviii.  49,  etc.),  fifteen  centuries  previously.     In  the 
first   book    of  Kings   (chap.  xiii.  2,  3)   there  is  a  prophecy  con- 
cerning   josiah   by  name,   three   hundred   and   thirt\--one   years; 
and   in    Isaiah  (xlv.    i)  concerning  Cyrus,    one   hundred    years, 
before  either  of  them  were  born.      According  to  the  predictions 
of  the  prophets  Nineveh  has  been  desolated  (Nahum  i.  i,  2,  3); 
Babylon  swept  with  the  bosom  of  destruction  (Isaiah  xiii.  14); 
Tyre  become  a  place  for  the  spreading  of  nets  (Ezekiel  xxvi. 
4,    5);  Egypt  the  basest  of  the   kingdoms,  etc.   (Ezekiel  xxix. 
14,  15).    Daniel  distinctly  predicted  the  overthrow,  in  succession, 
of  the    four    great    empires  of  antiquity — the    Babylonian,  the 
Persian,  the   Grecian  and  the    Roman,   all    of  which  has  taken 
place.     Not  only  are  the  leading   features  of  the  character   of 
Christ  delineated  with  the  faithfulness   of  history   hundreds   of 
years  before  He  appeared,  but   there  is  scarcely  an  incident  in 
His  life  which  prophecy  has  overlooked.     And  according  to  the 
predictions  of  the  New  Testament  we  see  Jerusalem  in  ruins; 
the  Temple  not  rebuilt;  the  Jews  scattered,  but  not  destroyed; 
the   conversion  of  the   nations   to    Christianity;    the  many  anti- 
christian  corruptions  of  the    Gospel;  the  idolatry,  tyranny  and 
persecution  of  the  Roman  hierarchy,  etc.     What  prescience  does 
all  this   imply — prescience  no  where  to  be  found   but   in  God! 
"  Let  now  the  infidel  or  the  skeptical  reader  meditate  thoroughly 
and  soberly  on  these  predictions.     The  priority  of  the  records  to 


932 


TRUTH    OF    THE    BIBLE. 


the  events  admits  of  no  question.  The  completion  is  obvious  to 
e\'ery  competent  enquirer.  Here,  then,  are  tacts.  We  are 
called  upon  to  account  tor  those  facts  on  rational  and  adequate 
principles.  Is  human  foresight  equal  to  the  task.?  Enthusiasm.'' 
Conjecture.?  Chance.?  Political  contrivance.?  If  none  of  these, 
neither  an\-  other  principle  that  ma}'  be  devised  by  manV 
sagacity,  can  account  for  the  facts;  then  true- philosophy,  as  well 
as  true  religion,  will  ascribe  them  to  the  inspiration  of  the 
Almighty.  Every  elTect  must  have  a  cause.""  Prophecy  is  a 
species  of  perpetual  miracle.  And  the  prophecies  of  wScripture 
do  not  come  short  of  the  fullest  demonstration  which  the  case 
will  admit  of,  that  the  books  that  contain  them  are  the  unerring 
word  ot"  God. 

From  its  holy  tendency.  It  came  immediately  from  God, 
and  leads  immediately  to  Him.  It  bears  on  it  the  stamp  and 
impression  of  Deity;  and  is,  emphatically  and  really,  "  the  power 
of  God  unto  salvation  to  every  one  that  belie veth."  It  contains 
the  most  excellent  precepts — the  most  weighty  exhortations — 
and  the  most  precious  promises.  The  Bible  teaches  us  the  best 
way  of  living;  the  noblest  way  of  suffering;  and  the  most  com- 
fortable way  of  dying.  The  word  of  God,  accompanied  by  His 
Spirit,  convevs  strength  to  the  weak,  wisdom  to  the  simple, 
comfort  to  the  sorrowful,  light  to  those  who  are  in  darkness,  and 
life  to  the  dead.  It  introduces  the  infinite  God  as  speaking  in  a 
manner  worthv  of  Ilimsell';  with  simplicit}',  majesty  and  authority. 

//  ptaces  before  us  the  most  important  doctrines.  For  ex- 
ample, the  doctrine  of  the  Trinit}'  of  persons  or  substances  in 
the  Unitv  of  the  Godhead — the  proper,  supreme,  and  eternal 
di\initv  of  Christ — the  personality,  divinity,  and  offices  of  the 
IIol\-  Spirit — the  great  works  of  creation  and  providence — the 
fall  ot"man  from  the  mortal  image  of  God — the  necessit}-,  nature, 
and  extent  of  redemption — repentance  toward  God,  and  faith 
toward  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ — justification  through  the  blood  of 


ITS    AIMSo 


933 


the  cross — the  witness  of  the  Spirit  in  the  soul  of  beHevers — 
regeneration  by  the  Spirit  ot'  God — hohness  in  heart  and  Hfe — 
the  resurrection  of  the  dead^tlie  general  judgment — and  the 
eternit}'  of  future  rewards  and  punishments, 

//  inculcates  the  highest  moi'ality.  The  love  of  God,  and 
the  \o\Q.  of  our  neighbor — the  doing  to  others  as  we  would  they 
should  do  to  us — the  forgiving  of  our  enemies — the  living 
"  soberly  '' — in  the  use  of  food,  apparel,  and  all  things  relating 
to  ourselves,  "  righteously  " — in  the  perlbrmance  of  all  duties 
towards  our  neighbors,  and  "  godly  ^' — worshiping  God  in  a 
right  manner — the  checking  of  all  impurit}^  of  thought  and  de- 
sire— the  rendering  of  honor  to  whom  honor,  and  tribute  to 
whom  tribute,  is  due — the  cultivation  of  humility,  meekness, 
gentleness,  placability,  disinterestedness,  truth,  justice,  benefi 
cence,  charity,  and  other  virtues — and  the  av^oidance  of  pride, 
discontent,  despair,  revenge,  cruelty,  oppression,  contention,  adul 
tery,  suicide,  and  other  vices  and  crimes  which  injure  mankind 

It  preserves  from  all  error.  It  is  an  infallible  rule  of  judg 
ment  and  of  practice,  and  clearly  teaches  what  we  ought  to 
believe  and  what  we  ought  to  do — it  enlightens  the  mind,  informs 
the  judgment,  instructs  the  heart,  and  saves  from  those  "  faults 
in  che  life,"  which  "breed  errors  in  the  brain."  All  error— false 
judgment  of  things,  or  assent  unto  falsehood — springs  from 
ignorance  of  the  Scriptures,  Mark  xii.  24;  John  vii.  17;  2  Tim. 
ill.  13-17 

//  promotes  holiness  and  peace  here.,  as  well  as  leads  to 
happiness  and  heaven  hereafter.  "  Wherewithal  shall  a  3'oung 
man  cleanse  his  way?"  Psalm  cxix.  9,  103-105.  "  The  law  of 
the  Lord  is  perfect,  converting  the  soul,"  Psalm  xix.  7-1 1. 
What  an  eulogy  is  this  on  the  perfection  of  the  sacred  writings! 
the  perfection  of  their  utility — their  certainty — their  purity — 
their  value — their  comforts — their  peace — and  their  sweetness. 
And  this  eulogy  was  pronounced  b}'  a  prophet,  a  poet,  and  a 
king — no  common  assemblage. 


93A 


TRUTH    OF    THE    BIBLE. 


//  secures  to  the  lover  of  it,  in  a  rich  degree,  tlie  Divine 
favor.  ''  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  the  heaven  is  my  throne,  and 
the  earth  is  my  footstool ;  but  to  this  man  will  I  look,  even  to 
him  that  is  poor  and  of  a  contrite  spirit,  and  trcmbleth  at  my 
word."  "Such  a  heart,''  says  Matthew  Henrv,  "  is  a  living 
temple  of  God;  He  dwells  there,  and  it  is  the  place  of  His  rest; 
it  is  like  heaven  and  earth,  His  throne  and  His  footstool." 

And  it  f amis  lies  t/ie  most  -povjerful  motives  to  the  -practice 
of  its  -precepts.  For  its  rewards  are  such  as  "  636  hath  not 
seen,  nor  ear  heard;"  and  its  threats  are  eminently  calculated  to 
terrify  offenders.  The  Bible  everywhere  abounds  with  an  in- 
tenseness  of  zeal  for  the  Divine  glor}',  and  with  a  depth  of  self- 
renunciation  on  the  part  of  the  wn-iters.  x\nd  what  a  contrast 
does  it,  in  this  respect,  exhibit  to  all  other  productions  of  author- 
ship!  In  Scripture,  God  is  all  in  all:  in  other  writings,  man  is 
always  a  prominent,  and  generally  the  sole  claimant  of  praise 
and  admiration.  And  no  man  can  attentively  peruse  the  sacred 
volume  without  being  awe-struck.  For  O  how  solenm  and 
inspiring!  and  how  admirably  calculated  to  restrain  from  sin, 
and  to  sublimate  the  views  and  feelings!  We  say,  therefore, 
that  no  man  can  diligently  read  the  Scriptures  without  becoming 
a  wiser  and  better  man.  The  celebrated  John  Locke,  whose 
pure  philosophy  taught  him  to  adore  its  source,  said,  with  his 
dying  lips,  when  tendering  his  advice  to  a  30ung  nobleman, 
*'  Study  the  Holy  Scriptures,  especially  the  New  Testament;  for 
therein  are  contained  the  words  of  eternal  life:  it  hath  God  for 
its  author — salvation  for  its  end — and  truth,  without  an}^  mixture 
of  error,  for  its  matter." 


"  It  sweetly  cheers  our  drooping  hearts, 
In  this  dark  vale  of  tears." 


It  does  more- 


"  It  sheds  a  lustre  all  abroad, 
And  points  the  path  to  bliss  and  heaven." 


iTb  AIMS.  935 

"  'Tis  for  our  light  and  guidance   given."     And    O  what   a 
source  of    hght,   and  strength   and   peace!      How   it   clears   the 


SHI8HAK    AKD   HIS   CAPTIVES   ON    SCULPTURED    WALL    AT    KAKNAC. 

derstanding,  and   fills   the   soul  with  sweet  delight!      How  it 
q^aickens  our  inactive  powers,  and   sets   all   our  wandering   toot- 


un 


93^ 


TRUTH    OF    THE    BIBLE. 


Steps  rio-ht!     And  how  its   promises    rejoice  our  hearts,  and   its 
precepts  direct  our  lives! 

'•  A  glory  gilds  the  sacred  page, 
Majestic  like  the  sun; 
It  gives  a  light  to  every  age, 
It  gives,  but  borrows  none." 

Ah!  there  are  no  words  comparable  to  the  Scriptures. 
None  containing  doctrines  so  useful — commands  so  reasonable 
— arguments  so  powerful.  The  lines 
of  Scripture  are  richer  than  the  mines 
of  gold.  I  low  evidently  suited  to  a 
sinful,  sinning  race!  and  how  delight- 
fully framed  for  the  perfection  of 
human  happiness!  What  proofs  of  a 
Divine  original!  Show,  if  you  can, 
in  all  this  world,  any  one  book  of  all 
that  ever  was  produced  in  any  age  or 
nation,  like  the  Bible.  Ay,  the  Bible 
came  from  God;  and  it  bears  a  moral 
resemblance  to  Him  from  whom  it 
came.  God  is  holy,  just,  and  good; 
and  the  Bible  is  also  holy  in  its  nature, 
just  in  its  requirements,  and  good  in 
its  provisions  and  tendency. 

From  its  beneficial  effects.  It 
has  wrought  wonders  in  all  ages,  in 
all  places,  on  all  persons,  and  in  all  pos- 
sible varieties   of  human  life.      Chris- 


tianity— the   religion   of   the    Bible- 


PORTRAIT   OF   HEHOBOAM. 


has  taught  the  great  lessons  of  devotion,  self-government,  and 
benevolence.  It  has  diffused  and  preserved  literature — abated 
illiberal  prejudices — produced  humility,  forgiveness  of  injuries, 
regard  to  truth,  justice,  and  honesty,  hrmness  under  persecution, 


ITS    EFFECTS. 


937 


patience  under  worldly  afflictions,  and  calmness  and  resignation 
at  the  approach  of  death — discouraged  fornication,  polygamy, 
adultery,  divorces,  suicide,  and  duels — checked  infanticide,  cruel 
sports,  the  violence  of  war,  the  vices  of  Kings  and  the  assaults 
of  princes — -and  rendered  its  sincere  professors  true,  honest,  just, 
pure,  lovely,  and  of  good  report.  It  has  improved  the  condition 
of  females — reclaimed  dissolute  men — abolished  human  sacrifices 
— prevented  assassinations  of  princes,  and  revolutions  in  states 
— encouraged  hospitality  to  strangers — founded  charitable  insti- 
tutions— emancipated    slaves — abated   the  rigors   of  servitude 

redeemed  captives — relieved  prisoners — protected  widows  and 
orphans — softened  into  tenderness  and  tears  the  hearts  of  despots 
— and  given  stability  to  thrones,  wisdom  to  human  laws,  and  pro- 
tection to  the  people.  Has  it  not  done  more  for  the  honor  of  the 
prince  and  the  weal  of  the  subject  than  any  other  system  ? 

It  has  been  a  blessing  to  every  country  into  which  it  has 
been  introduced.  It  has  been  a  blessing  to  Britain.  It  has  en- 
wrapped in  graceful  robes  the  once  naked  inhabitants  of  this 
great  countr}':  it  has  built  cities,  cultivated  forests,  reared  our 
temples,  regulated  our  institutions,  and  rendered  the  countr}'  both 
powerful  and  happy.  America  has  found  in  it  her  freedom  and 
her  peace.  The  wrongs  of  Africa  have  been  mitigated  and 
removed  by  its  justice  and  generosity.  Asia,  an^^.  the  isles  of 
the  sea,  are  waiting  for  its  light  and  healing.  In  every  Pagan 
country  where  it  has  prevailed,  it  has  abolished  idolatry,  with 
its  sanguinar}'  and  polluted  rites;  raised  the  standard  of  moral- 
ity, and  thus  improved  the  manners  of  the  people;  and  diffused 
far  and  wide  the  choicest  blessings  of  heaven — ^freedom  to  the 
captive,  light  to  the  blind,  comfort  to  the  distressed,  hope  to  the 
despairing,  and  life  to  the  dying.  Ask  the  people  of  New  Zea- 
land, of  Taheita,  of  Tonga,  cannibals,  infanticides,  murderers  of 
whole  islands,  what  it  has  done  for  the  salvation  of  their  souls. 
It  is  at  once  the  desire  of  all  nations,  and  the  glor}-  of  all  lands. 


938 


TRUTH    OF    THE    BIBLE. 


A  fid  it  has  produced  the  most  happy  effects  on  multitudes 
of  men.  It  has  enlightened  the  most  ignorant;  softened  the  most 
hardened;  reclaimed  the  most  profligate;  converted  the  most  es- 
tranged; purified  the  most  polluted;  exalted  the  most  degraded* 
and  plucked  the  most  endangered  from  hell  to  heaven.  What 
was  it  that  transformed  the  persecuting  and  blaspheming  Saul 
into  a  kind  and  devoted  man?  It  was  religion.  What  was  it 
which  brought  the  woman  who  was  a  sinner  to  bathe  the  feet  of 
Jesus  with  her  tears,  and  to  wipe  them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head.^^ 
It  was  religion.  What  was  it  which  produced  the  faith  of  Abra- 
ham, the  meekness  of  Moses,  the  patience  of  Job,  the  wisdom  of 
Solomon,  tlie  placability  of  Joseph,  the  penitence  and  zeal  of 
David,  the  gentleness  of  Stephen,  the  boldness  of  the  prophets, 
the  undaunted  zeal  of  Paul,  the  heroism  of  Peter,  and  the  sweet 
temper  of  "  the  beloved  disciple  .^'^  It  was  religion.  What  was^ 
it  which  produced  such  purity  of  life,  and  gave  such  majesty  in 
death,  in  the  cases  of  Grotius,  Selden,  Salmasius,  Hale,  Paschal, 
Boyle,  Locke,  Newton,  Boerhave,  Addison,  Maclaurin,  Lyttle- 
ton,  and  a  thousand  others.^      It  was  religion. 

Even  men  who  labored  to  erase  out  of  the  mind  all  respect 
for  religion   have  acknowledged  the  importance  and  expediency 
of  it.     Bayle  admits  religion  to  be  useful  if  men  acted  agreeably 
to   its   principles;    and    Voltaire   says,  expressly,  that   religion  is 
necessary  in  every  fixed  communit}';   the  laws  are  a  curb    upon 
open  crimes,  and  religion  on  those  that  are  private.      "  No  relig- 
ion,"  says  Bolingbroke,    "  ever   appeared    in    the   world   whose 
natural  tendency  was  so  much  directed  to  promote  the  peace  and 
happiness  of  mankind  as  the  Christian.      The  S3'stem  of  religion 
recorded  b}'  the  evangelists  is  a   complete  system  to  all  the  pur- 
poses of    true   religion,   natural    or   revealed.       The    Gospel   of 
Christ  is  one  continued   lesson   of  the  strictest  inorality,  justice, 
benevolence,  and  universal  charity     ....     Supposing  Chris- 
tianity to  have  been  purely  an  human  invention,  it  had   been  the 


ITS    KFFKCTS.  939 

most  amiable,  and  the  most  useful  invention  that  was  ever  im- 
posed on  mankind  lor  their  good."  Hume  aeknowledges,  that, 
"  the  disbelief  in  futurity  loosens,  in  a  great  measure,  the  ties  of 
moralit}',  and  may  be  supposed,  for  that  reason,  pernieious  to  the 
peace  of  civil  society/'  Rousseau  acknowledges,  that,  "if  all 
were  perfect  Christians,  individuals  would  do  their  duty,  the  peo- 
ple would  be  obedient  to  the  laws,  the  chiefs  just,  the  magistrates 
incorrupt,  the  soldiers  would  despise  death,  and  there  WT)uld  be 
neither  vanity  nor  luxury  in  such  a  state."  Gibbon  admits,  that 
the  gospel,  or  the  church,  discouraged  suicide,  advanced  erudi- 
tion, checked  oppression,  promoted  the  manumission  of  slaves, 
and  softened  the  ferocity  of  barbarous  nations;  that  fierce  nations 
receiv^ed  at  the  same  time  the  lessons  of  faith  and  humanity,  and 
that,  in  the  most  corrupt  state  of  Christianity,  the  barbarians 
might  learn  justice  from  the  law,  and  mercy  from  the  gospel. 
"  To  impute  crimes  to  Christianit}',"  says  the  celebrated  King 
of  Prussia,  "  is  the  act  of  a  novice."  His  word  may  fairly  be 
taken  for  such  an  assertion.  And  3'et  these  unbelievers  have 
been  so  vile  and  perverse  as  to  decry  a  S3'stem  w^hich  they  ac- 
knowledge to  be  useful.  How  ungrateful!  Flow  reprehensible! 
Collect  now  the  thoughts  scattered  under  this  branch  of  the  sub- 
ject, and  be  honest — heartily  believe,  and  openly  acknowledge, 
that  God  was  the  author  of  the  Bible.  What  but  a  superhuman, 
a  truly  divine  influence  breathing  in  the  Scriptures,  can  account 
for  the  energy  and  beneficence  of  their  moral  tendencies.^ 

From  its  general  reception.  Vast  numbers  of  wise  and 
good  men.  through  many  generations  and  in  different  countries, 
have  agreed  in  receiving  the  Bible  as  a  revelation  from  God. 
Many  of  them  have  been  noted  for  seriousness,  erudition,  pene- 
tration, and  impartiality  in  judging  of  men  and  things.  We 
might  refer  to  Alfred,  "  replete  with  soul — the  light  of  a  be- 
nighted age" — to  Charles  V.,  Emperor  of  Germany — to  Gus- 
tavus  Adolphus,  the  renowned   King   of  Sweden;  to   Selden,  the 


^j^O  TRUTH    OF    THE    BIBLE. 

learned  and  laborious  lawyer  and  antiquary — to  Bacon,  "the 
brip-ht  morning  star  of  science  " — to  Usher,  the  well-known  arch- 
bishop of  Armagh — ':o  Newton,  "  the  sun  whose  beams  have 
irradiated  the  world  "" — to  Boyle,  celebrated  for  genius  and  erudi- 
tion— to  Milton,  the  prince  of  poets — to  Locke,  the  man  of  pro- 
found thought — to  Jones,  one  of  the  brightest  geniuses  and  most 
distinguished  scholars  of  the  eighteenth  century — and  to  many 
other  deathless  names.  And  if  the  evidence  of  the  truth  of  the 
Bible  satisfied  men  of  such  high  intellectual  capacity,  ought  it 
not  to  satisfy  us?  We  do  not  wish  to  insinuate  that  we  ought 
to  believe  in  the  Divinity  of  the  Scriptures  merely  because  they 
believed  it.  But  we  do  mean  to  say  that  we  ought  not  rashly 
to  conclude  against  that  which  they  received.  They  are  ac- 
knowledged authorities  in  other  cases;  then  why  not  in  this.^  If 
we  can  place  reliance  upon  them  in  their  philosophical  inquiries, 
whv  not  in  their  religious  ones.^  Surel}'  the  intidels  of  the  pres- 
ent da\-,  so  far  interior  to  the  believers  of  the  tbrmer  days,  ought 
to  express  themselves  with  more  modesty  upon  this  important 
subject,  and  to  hesitate  before  they  openly  profess  their  opposi- 
tion to  that  book  of  religion  and  morals  which  has  received  the 
countenance  of  such  honorable  names  as  those  which  have  been 
mentioned. 

On  the  subject  of  the  propagation  of  Christianity  it  has 
been  eloquentl}'  said:  "In  spite  of  violent  and  accumulated  oppo- 
sition it  diffused  its  blessings  among  the  cities  of  Asia  and  the 
islands  of  Greece;  over  the  deserts  of  Arabia  and  the  European 
continent!  From  the  hill  of  Calvary  it  speedily  found  its  way 
to  imperial  Rome,  gathering  fresh  laurels  as  it  progressed,  until 
it  entered  the  palace  and  wa\'ed  its  banner  over  the  proud  dwel- 
ling of  Cgesar!  With  all  the  influence  of  priests  and  kings 
against  it,  and  all  the  terrors  of  the  gibbet  or  the  flames,  it 
rapidly  overspread  the  extensive  Roman  empire  and  reached 
Britain,    the    little    isle    of  the    sea.     With    a    power   divine   it 


ITS    GENERAL    RECEPTlONo  94! 

achieved  a  triumph  over  me  tal  and  moral  obliquity,  surpassing 
all  that  the  philosophy  of  Greece  or  Rome  could  boast;  and  still 
will  it  conquer,  until  the  sun  in  the  heavens  shall  not  look  down 
on  a  single  human  being  destitute  of  the  knowledge  of  Jesus 
Christ.'"  And  the  Rev.  Robert  Hall,  whom  to  mention  is  to 
praise,  remarked:  ''We  see  Christianity  as  yet  but  in  its  infancy. 
It  has  not  already  reached  the  great  ends  it  is  intended  to  answer 
and  to  which  it  is  constantly  advancing.  At  present  it  is  but  a 
grain  of  mustard  seed  and  seems  to  bring  forth  a  tender  and 
weakly  crop,  but  be  assured  it  is  of  God's  own  right  hand 
planting,  and  He  will  never  suffer  it  to  perish.  It  will  soon 
stretch  its  branches  to  the  river  and  its  shades  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth.  The  weary  will  repose  themselves  under  it,  the  hungry 
will  partake  of  its  fruits,  and  its  leaves  will  be  for  the  healing  of 
the  nations.  Those  who  profess  the  name  of  Jesus  will  delight 
in  contemplating  the  increase  and  grandeur  of  His  kingdom. 
'  He  must  reign  until  He  hath  put  all  enemies  under  His  feet.' 
The  leligion  of  Jesus  is  not  the  religion  of  one  age  or  of  one 
nation.  It  is  a  train  of  light  first  put  in  motion  by  God,  and 
which  will  continue  to  move  and  to  spread  till  it  has  filled  the 
whole  earth  with  its  glory.  Its  blessings  will  descend  and  its 
influence  will  be  felt  to  the  latest  generations.  Uninterrupted  in 
its  course,  and  boundless  in  its  extent,  it  will  not  be  limited  by 
time  or  space.  The  earth  is  too  narrow  for  the  display  of  its 
effects  and  the  accomplishment  of  its  purposes.  It  points  for- 
ward to  an  eternity.  The  great  Redeemer  will  again  appear 
upon  the  earth  as  the  judge  and  ruler  of  it;  will  send  forth  His 
angels  and  gather  His  elect  from  the  four  winds;  will  abolish  sin 
and  death;  will  place  the  righteous  forever  in  the  presence  of 
his  God,  of  their  God,  of  his  Father,  and  their  father." 

"  As  the  waters  the  depth  of  the  blue  ocean  cover, 
So  fully  shall  God  among  mortals  be  known; 
His  word,  like  the  sunbeams,  shall  range  the  world  over, 
The  globe  His  vast  temple,  and  mercy  His  throne.'' 


942 


TRUTH    OF    THE    BIBLE. 


Christianity,  though  not  persecuting,  has  been  bitterly  per- 
secuted; vet  it  has  triumphed — and  triumphed,  too,  in  spite  of  all 
its  foes.  Like  Moses'  bush,  it  was  unconsumable  by  tire;  and 
rose  up  amid  the  flames  and  prospered.  And  like  the  eagle — 
the  imperial  bird  of  storms — it  will  continue  securely  to  soar 
amid  every  tempest.  All  attempts  to  impede  its  progress  will  be 
as  powerless  and  vain  as  attempts  to  drive  back  the  flowing  tide 
with  the  point  of  a  needle.  When  infldels  can  grasp  the  winds 
in  their  fists,  hush  the  voice  of  the  thunder  bv  the  breath  of  their 
mouth,  suspend  the  succession  of  the  seasons  by  their  nod,  and 
extinguish  the  light  of  the  sun  by  a  veil,  then,  and  not  till  then, 
can  they  arrest  the  progress  of  truth  or  invalidate  the  verities  of 
the  Bible.  Unwise  and  unhappy  men!  they  are  but  plowing 
the  air — striking  with  a  straw — writing  on  the  surface  of  the 
water — and  seeking  figs  where  only  brambles  grow. 

And  compare  not  the  propagation  of  Mohammedanism  with 
the  propagation  of  Christianit}';  for  it  is  useless,  if  not  absurd. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  the  former  was  propagated  by  fanaticism, 
falsehood,  pandering  to  the  passions,  promising  a  voluptuous 
paradise,  and  the  frequent  use  of  the  sword ;  but  the  latter  by 
sanity,  truth,  restraining  the  passions,  promising  a  pure  and  holy 
heaven,  and  the  use  of  no  other  sword  but  the  sword  of  the 
Spirit,  that  is,  the  word  of  God.  Christianity  came — saw — and 
conquered.  And  all  her  victories  have  been  bloodless — of  untold 
advantage  to  the  vanquislied  themselves.  They  have  desolated 
no  country — produced  no  tears  but  to  wipe  them  away — and 
broken  no  hearts  but  to  heal  them.  Now  to  what  is  all  this 
to  be  attributed?  Can  we  reasonably  ascribe  the  general  re- 
ception of  the  Bible  and  the  consequent  spread  of  Christianity  to 
anything  short  of  di\ine  power .^  Is  it  not  unprecedented.-* 
"  Could  any  books,''  says  an  able  writer,  "  have  undergone  so 
fearful  and  prolonged  an  ordeal  and  achieved  so  spotless  and 
perfect  a  triumph,  unless  they  had  been  given  and  watched  over 
by  the  Deitv?  '' 


PERSIXUTED    HUT    NOT    PERSECUTING.  943 

From  its  iiuntnicrahle  martyrs.  ''  If  a  person,"  sa}'s  Dr. 
Jortin,  ''  lays  d(3wn  his  life  for  the  name  of  Christ,  or  lor  what 
he  takes  to  be  the  reHgion  of  Christ,  when  he  might  prolong  his 
days  by  renouncing  his  faith,  he  must  stand  for  a  martyr  in  every 
reasonable  man's  calendar,  though  he  may  have  been  much  mis- 
taken in  some  of  his  opinions."  It  has  been  calculated  that  since 
Christianity  arose,  not  less  than  fifty  millions  of  martyrs  have  laid 
down  their  lives  for  its  sake.  Some  were  venerable  for  years; 
others  were  in  the  bloom  of  life;  and  not  a  few  were  of  the 
weaker  sex.  They  were,  for  the  most  part,  well-instructed  per- 
sons. Many  were  learned  and  respectable  men;  neither  factious 
in  their  principles  nor  violent  in  their  passions.  They  were 
neither  wild  in  their  notions,  nor  foolishly  prodigal  of  their  lives. 
This  may  safely  be  affirmed  of  such  men  as  Polycarp  and  Igna- 
tius, Jerome  and  Huss,  Latimer  and  Cranmer,  Ridlc}'  and 
Hooper,  Philpot  and  Bradford,  Lambert  and  Saunders,  and 
many  others.  Yet  these  so  valued  the  Bible,  that,  rather  than 
renounce  it,  and  relinquish  the  hopes  it  inspired,  they  yielded 
their  bodies  to  be  burnt,  or  otherwise  tormented,  and  "  rejoiced 
and  clapped  their  hands  in  flames,"  or  the  like.  "  All  that  a 
man  hath  will  he  give  for  his  life."  All  account  life  sweet  and 
precious.  No  man  of  sense  and  understanding  will  sacrifice  his 
life,  when  he  can  preserve  it,  but  for  some  deeply  rooted  convic- 
tion of  truth  or  duty.  In  this  view.  Christian  martyrs  are 
entitled  to  our  respect  and  esteem.  For,  they  gave  the  strongest 
proof  of  sincerity  of  their  faith:  and  no  suspicion  of  fraud  can 
reasonably  be  entertained  against  them.  "  We  conclude,"  says 
Dr.  Jortin,  "  that  they  were  assisted  by  God,  who  alleviated  their 
pain,  and  gave  them  not  only  resignation  and  patience,  but  exul- 
tation and  joy.  And  this  wonderful  behavior  of  the  former 
Christians  may  justly  be  accounted  a  proof  of  the  truth  of  the 
Bible,  and  our  holy  religion,  and  we  should  deserve  to  be  blamed 
and   despised   if  we   parted   with   it,  and  gave   it  up   tamely   on 


QA^  TRUTH    OF    THE    BIBLE. 

account  of  a  few  objections."  "  No  man,"  observes  Dr.  Beattie^ 
''  ever  laid  down  his  life  for  the  honor  of  Jupiter,  Neptune,  or 
Apollo;  but  how  man}'  thousands  have  sealed  their  Christian 
testimony  with  their  blood!"  What  a  moral  victory!  And 
whence  but  from  heaven  such  a  religion, having  such  attestation.? 
Other  arguments  might  be  added  tending  to  demonstrate 
the  truth  of  our  proposition;  but  surely,  enough  have  been  pro- 
duced to  establish  the  authority  of  the  Bible  on  an  immovable 
basis.  "  Forever,  O  Lord,  Thy  word  is  settled  in  heaven.  I 
esteem  all  Thy  precepts  concerning  all  things  to  be  right;  and  I 
hate  every  false  way."  "  All  flesh  is  as  grass,  and  all  the  glory 
of  man  as  the  flower  of  grass.  The  grass  withereth,  and  the 
flower  thereof  falleth  away;  but  the  word  of  the  Lord  endureth 
forever.  And  this  is  the  word  which  by  the  Gospel  is  preached 
unto  you." 

"  The  proudest  works  of  Genius  shall  decay, 
And  Reason's  brightest  lustre  fade  away; 
The  Sophist's  art,  the  Poet's  boldest  flight, 
Shall  sink  in  darkness,  y.nd  conclude  in  night; 
But  Faith  triumphant  over  Time  shall  stand, 
Shall  grasp  the  Sacred  Volume  in  her  hand; 
Back  to  its  source  the  heavenly  gift  convey. 
Then  in  the  flood  of  Glory  melt  away." 


THE    END. 


3 


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